


Deep Waters

by Huzuzu470



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ((ish)), (does not happen but it is closer than some may be comfortable with so i'm adding the tag), (strongly disliked to friends to lovers would be a much more accurate tag), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Med Student!Levi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Marie/Erwin Smith, Slow Burn, Swimming Pools
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23484319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huzuzu470/pseuds/Huzuzu470
Summary: It’s desperation more than anything that makes Erwin Smith apply for the job at the local pool.(updater vers. : August 13th 2020)
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Erwin Smith, Background Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein, Endgame Levi/Erwin Smith - Relationship, Levi/Erwin Smith, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

It’s desperation more than anything that makes Erwin Smith apply for the job at the local pool.

"So?" Mike asks as Erwin steps into the apartment, dripping water on the carpet as he does. He slams the door closed behind him, the frame shuddering, and Mike grins like an idiot. "How'd you do? Did you fall in?"

"Shut up," Erwin grumbles. It’s impossible not to laugh at Mike sitting on the couch, waggling his eyebrows. Eventually though, the grumpiness gives way to a tiny curl of his lips. "I didn't fall, I had a test to do. Just didn’t have a towel on me."

"With all your clothes on? Was that intentional too?" Mike leans forwards and mutes the episode of Game of Thrones on the TV, elbow propped against the armrest to offer Erwin his full attention. "At least tell me you got the job.” Erwin can tell from his expression he might have been genuinely sad had he not.

He flashes a thumbs-up and a smile that Mike returns, before disappearing into the bathroom to dry off. It had been a stroke of luck that he hadn't completely failed, in hindsight. But he has a job. The semester is over, and he knows that the alternative to working would be moving back in with his parents. The thought sends an unpleasant shiver down Erwin’s spine.

Mike walks through the door after him, interrupting his thoughts. He leans on the sink counter, looks Erwin up and down, nose crinkling. "You sure you’re okay? You seem thrown."

"Nah, I'm fine. Just a little anxious being responsible for actual people." Erwin scrubs his hair with a towel, trying to fully dry it out, but a few stubborn drops still cling on for dear life. 

It’s not a lie, it’s just not the entire truth, he figures. Somewhere, fundamentally, deep in his bones, Erwin knows he probably doesn’t have the mettle to actually step up if and when a problem occurs. He’s made his peace with it, in a way, but that does nothing to soothe the anxiety that something awful might still happen while he’s seated up in the chair.

"Hey, if you do dinner tonight, I'll do the dishes for you.” He suggests it a bit clunkily, and even to him it sounds obvious that he’s trying to change the subject. The kitchenette is a mess, but it’s worth it so long as the offer means potentially escaping the puzzled expression Mike fixes him with. "I still have half the interview to go through, so I'd like to get a jump start on the day tomorrow."

“So then, you _didn't_ get the job?" he asked, his face changing to worry again. "I thought that was a yes?"

“No, I got it.” Erwin mutters the sentence, word coming out low, rumbling through his chest. “Just some paperwork. The main part is over.” Erwin throws the towel into the tub.

Mike follows the ark of the fabric through the air, frowning. “Put that in the wash, and we’ll call it fair on the dinner thing.” He pats Erwin on the shoulder and straightens, walking out the door. Mike has always known when it was best to leave Erwin to his thoughts

"Thanks," Erwin grunts over his shoulder as he shambles past. He locks eyes with himself in the mirror.

He is _not_ going to screw this up.

* * *

It’s sweltering hot. Erwin can feel the sweat as it trickles down his neck and soak into the back of his uniform, dripping down his forearms and off his elbows. His skin is dry, cracked and peeling where he hasn’t slathered it in sunscreen. 

The relentlessness of early July temperatures has been hitting them all hard, blowing it clear through the twenties and well into the thirties, and, once again, Auruo had forgotten the umbrella. It’s not like Erwin can jump down and get it now though, so long as he’s still on shift, so he grits his teeth and tucks his cap down in an attempt to shade as much of his face as he’s capable of covering.

"How you holding up, big guy?" Mike calls up the ladder. His towel is draped messily over his shoulders, a pair of green swim trunks on, grinning like an idiot. Erwin throws one of his flip-flops down, thwacking into Mike with a _thwip_ noise that is altogether far too satisfying, and immediately regrets it as he realizes just how hot the plastic flooring of the chair is. 

"Don't distract me when I'm on the job!" he shouts, his foot dangling off the edge of the seat as he winces, and Mike laughs. 

"Whatever you say.” His tone is altogether far too smug, and Erwin’s face twists into a pout, holding his hands out and gesturing at his sandal. 

“Toss it back!” he shouts, and Mike laughs. He throws flip flop from hand to hand playfully, and while Erwin knows he should be trying to be more serious if he wants Mike to listen, it’s also hard to keep a straight face at the scene.

Mike grunts, and lobs it up to him, still chuckling as Erwin shoves it back on his foot hastily. 

It’s been maybe two months that Erwin’s been working now, and things have been running fairly predictably so far. Mike had begun showing up somewhere along the lines when he had realized that Erwin’s job would earn him a discount, if his manager wasn't looking.

But besides being generally enjoyable, Erwin has to admit that the pay was more than alright, and Rico really wasn't so bad once you got to know her. She’s a year younger than Erwin is, but she’s been there long enough that the guy who owns the place leaves her in charge when he isn’t around. Erwin distinctly remembers the lecture that she had given him about pool safety on his first day, mainly because one of his coworkers had mimed the whole thing over her shoulder. In hindsight, Erwin is pretty sure that that had probably contributed to him actually retaining most of what she had said.

He turns his attention back to Mike for a moment as he jogs off towards the office, glancing back towards the others sitting in the shade. Erwin has gotten to know them all a bit, but some of the names still slip his mind sometimes.

What Rico had mainly said to Erwin that first day had been about the importance of being alert on the job. The danger of it is when a person gets too comfortable, and starts subsequently assuming that because nothing bad has happened yet, nothing ever will. 

Erwin had actually had a hard time believing that at first, to be honest. He’d been so absolutely stuck in his head, so unbelievably _anxious_ about fucking something up, that he realizes only now how much he’s been slacking off, relaxing into the role of — well, an observer. Surely, that wasn’t so much of a bad thing, right? With how high-strung he’d felt when he’d first started, Erwin feels almost like he’d have been _less_ responsive when the situation had actually demanded it. Thoughts lead to actions, and thus the way one thinks about things leads to how one interacts with them. Erwin had known that long before Rico had told him. He’d heard it in a movie or in that psych 101 class he'd taken in his second semester. He can’t quite remember. But he knows it’s probably true.

By time he snaps out of his train of thought, Erd is walking towards him, a pool umbrella cradled under his arm. Erwin sighs, drapes his towel over his head, and starts climbing down the ladder.

"Hey," he says, giving Erwin a light tap on the back as he touches down. "Hot out today, isn't it?" A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he held the umbrella up by the pole.

"Thanks for the shade.” The sentence comes out of his mouth in a little huff of air, clearly more than a little sarcastic, and Erd laughs. “Mike’s not getting beaten up too badly today, I hope?”

There’s a twitch at the corner of Erd’s lips. They both know that Erwin is referring to his less-than-successful attempts at catching Rico’s eye. A few half-hearted attempts at flirting was all Mike could get in before she'd begun ignoring him, not that it had stopped him from trying.

“Not yet, although you should've seen her when he came in," he cackles, losing all interest in teasing Erwin when offered a better target. "I’ve _never_ seen her look so homicidal, and I’ve known her for a _while_.”

Erwin bites back his laughter, leaning on the ladder. “He’s determined to get her number before the end of the summer,” he says, and then feels his gut tie into what is possibly a thousand little knots as the colour drains out of Erd’s face.

“Shit,” Erd mutters. Erwin twists around to stare at the pool, the lightheartedness of their conversation completely blown out of the water.

He immediately sees the problem, time seeming to slow to a halt as he watches a slim body thrash to and fro in the deep end, his eyes boring straight into Erwin’s, begging for help. He vaguely registers that Erd has dropped the umbrella, rooted to the ground, frozen. Petra at least had the sense to jump from the chair and run towards them, her whistle screaming in Erwin’s ears as he feels his legs moving with absolutely no thought behind them

“Out of the way!” he shouts.

He’s pushing off of the cement before his brain has a chance to register what his body is doing, cold water rushing over his head, snapping him back into reality just as suddenly. His lungs contract a little, bubbles escaping his nose as he dives down, down reaching desperately for the body he’d seen slip under the surface.

Way in the back of his mind, he registers that there’s absolutely no feeling of panic, no hesitation as he opens his eyes, the air pushed out of his lungs in a stream of bubbles that float upwards, ever so graceful. He blinks twice, the chlorine stinging as his eyes adjust.

The guy floats in front of him, suspended, motionless, his hair flowing around his head with the movement of the water. Something about it is stunningly beautiful. Erwin realizes. He ropes his arms over his shoulders and drags him upwards, gripped against his chest, covering his mouth as he breaks the surface and paddles back.

Rico is already pacing along the sideline as Erwin pulls him closer. She reaches down and helps him haul the body out of the water, and rushes off towards the office, muttering under her breath, only turning around to shout instructions over her shoulder. "Nanaba! Call the ambulance! I'm going to get his nitro!" 

Erwin turns his attention back to the victim, whose eyelids are fluttering weakly. He doesn't look dead yet, he thinks blankly.

Erd appears over his shoulder just as Erwin tilts his head back, about to start CPR, putting a hand on his shoulder as though to hold him back. 

"Woah, Smith, don't jump the gun. See if he's breathing. I'll get you a mask. Mike, stay here if he needs help."

"Alright." Mike’s voice is solemn. Erwin can practically taste the nervous tension Mike radiates as he sniffs the air. He didn't like it any more than Erwin did, it seems, and there’s a strange kind of comfort in knowing that. 

"Thanks," Erd says. He wraps an arm around Petra’s shoulders, mumbling something soothing as he leads her away. Petra hardly has the presence of mind to do anything besides stumble blindly after him, nodding blankly. 

He’s vaguely aware of the fact that now it’s just him and the body, that whatever happens next is in his hands, at least until Rico gets back.

"Hey," Erwin slaps the floor beside his head, “hey! Can you hear me?” He reaches out tentatively and pinches the guy’s ear, and, as if magic, his eyes shoot open, sitting bolt upright and spewing water into Erwin’s lap.

Against every instinct that human beings should have in this situation, he has the sudden urge to laugh when Mike mutters, “ _Gross._ ”

" _Fuck_ — sorry, I... angina.. — my _meds_ — " He stutters as he tries to get the words out right, clutching at his chest before another torrent of water and vomit pours out from between his lips onto the concrete, this time coming from his stomach rather than his lungs. Erwin is eternally grateful that the guy doesn’t manage to get it on him twice. ”Rico knows what — I... _fuck."_

"She's on it now." Erwin isn't entirely sure how to deal with this, had barely known how to do it in practice. He rubs the back of his hand lamely and mentally sprints through the list of questions he knows he’s supposed to be asking. "What's your name?"

He coughs again, sputtering. "Armin Arlert."

"Alright. You're going to be fine, Armin." Erwin’s honestly surprised with how calm he’s managing to sound. "Do you have any pain anywhere else on your body besides your chest?"

"No." He shakes his head. He’d probably been through this before, Erwin realizes. 

"Age?"

"19"

"Allergies?" 

"A mild one to mangoes." Another short fit before he falls silent.

"Medications, besides nitro?"

He sighs distinctly through the coughing, eyes rolling upwards. "No, and the last thing I ate was a sandwich for lunch, I haven't had anything else medical happen in the past three months, and I was swimming in the deep end." He clutches at his chest again and grits his teeth. “They seriously haven’t updated that list of questions in a _while_.”

If Erwin is surprised, he does his best to hide it. He _clearly_ had been through this before.  It’s probably also the least situationally appropriate thought that could cross Erwin’s mind, and he’s _well_ aware of it, but the way the guy grins back at him, lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace, is kind of cute. 

What the fuck?

He opens his mouth to respond, probably with something a little snarky or chastising as well about how _he’s_ not the one who wrote the program, but Rico arrives with his medication, and the thought dissipates just as quickly as it came.

* * *

After the second dose, Armin seems a little bit better than before, his breathing less laboured. Nanaba said the ambulance should be here any minute, and some strange and deeply disturbed part of Erwin couldn't help but be mildly disappointed. The little blonde had actually turned out to be quite interesting, his hair tied back as he sat limply in the office armchair. For someone younger than Erwin by three years, his intelligence outstripped Erwin's by five, and Erwin couldn't help but listen to all the tiny details he gave about his condition, or be impressed with how casually rattled off the names and effects of drugs most people wouldn't have known how to pronounce.

Finally, the ambulance arrives, sirens wailing, and Erwin lets out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. No one has died. And, he's hopefully not getting fired, though with how Rico is glaring at him, he's not completely certain of that yet.

He feels Armin looking him over, covering his face in his hands before saying, "I'm sorry, I just realized I haven't even asked your name.” Erwin can see what he thinks is a touch of red around his ears.

"It's Erwin. Smith, I mean." He trails off awkwardly, not sure what else to say. “Smith, usually, around here. But you can call me Erwin — “ and he falters, catching himself, not sure how to continue the sentence “— uh, that is, if you want to?”

He can practically hear Rico’s eyes rolling upwards behind him.

Armin’s eyes look back up at him with, surprisingly, not a hint of resentment, even though Erwin had almost let him drown. “Thank you for helping me today, Erwin,” he says.

Erwin feels the blush creep over his face fast enough to look down and hide it with a laugh.

“No problem. Just don’t die,” he jokes, grinning like an idiot. 

They wheel over the stretcher for him. Working together, the two paramedics lift him up and place him carefully on it, moving back towards the ambulance. Armin’s head drops against the pillow, sighing as he does.

A third man steps out of the ambulance, small and yet still authoritative enough that Erwin blinks in surprise, his scowl taut across his lips. His gaze flashes to Rico a moment, startled. She seems to falter for a second as well, and — was she _blushing,_ Erwin wonders? 

His gaze flicks away from her, back to Erwin, eyes narrowed into silvery strips. 

"Are there any details you can give us for his follow-up treatment, any information worth considering?” he asks. His voice is cool, calm.

“Angina,” Rico says back bluntly, and a moment of silence passes between them. She breaks it, adding “He’s had two doeses already.”

“Right.” The guy's face is a perfect mirror, flat and emotionless. The way he and Rico refuse to lock eyes, though, Erwin knows there’s something else at play.

“Is something wrong?” he blurts, and regrets it immediately.

The paramedic’s eyes lock on him now instead, flashing dangerously, and Erwin knows he’s screwed up.

"Sorry, did I _ask_ for you to speak?”

A nervous sweat breaks across his neck. "No, but-“

He’s about to say something snarky about not needing permission from someone who hardly looks old enough to tie his own shoelaces, but thinks better of it at the last second, biting his tongue. Whatever was going on between this guy and Rico, it was none of his business, no matter how rudely he felt he could treat him. Erwin knows that he's better than petty insults, or at least he hopes he is.

"Good. Then pay closer attention to your own job, next time, and keep your overly large nose out of places it doesn’t belong." His gaze flashes upwards a moment, and his eyes narrow. "Or eyebrows. Jesus _fuck_ , are those _caterpillars_?"

An eyebrow hikes its way up Erwin’s forehead, and the guy notices it immediately, his lips twitching into the faintest smug expression. It occurs to Erwin that in fact, he may not be better than petty insults, opening his mouth again to answer —

Rico taps him on the shoulder.

"We need to have a talk, Smith. Office, now.” She turns around, and points at Erd. “You too. _Now.”_

* * *

“I cannot believe the incompetence of you two.” Rico flops down in the chair, an exasperated sigh hissing between her teeth. "Successfully saving the victim doesn't excuse the fact nobody was paying attention when he'd started to _drown."_

Erwin nearly interrupts to say that technically, they had been on deck, just not on watch, but thinks better of it as Rico fixes him with a withering stare.

“Who was the paramedic?” Erd asks bluntly, ignoring her lecturing. He’s trying his best to not smile, but the corner of his mouth still quirks upwards, ever the shit-disturber. “Is he some kind of arch-nemesis, or do you look at everyone like that?”

Rico waved him away, before folding her hands on the desk. “That’s not the point,” she mumbles, her face flushing all the way down to her collarbones, and Erwin tilts his head curiously. “The point is, that you two were incredibly stupid today, and —” 

She tries to say something else, mouth twitching, and then presses her lips closed again.

"Ex,” she replies, and the tiny dark haired man reappears in Erwin's head, the situation earlier suddenly making sense as it clicks together.

He nearly chokes when his mind registers what the word _ex_ actually entails having previously been, though. 

"You were _dating_ him?"

"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment since you're already in shit right now, Smith,” she groans. "It's unrelated." 

“Do you generally have a thing for shorter dudes?” Erd asks. “Cause I’ve got a cousin who like, —“

“Are you done?” she asks pointedly, and Erd seems to physically shrink back into his chair. “Got it out of your system now?”

He nods.

“Good.” She leans forward in the chair, knuckles scraping across the armrests. "I want to know why no one was around when Arlert began to drown. He's been coming here for years, and I remember mentioning to you _both_ that he has angina several times before. So why would you have taken the risk of leaving him in the water with no one watching?"

Erwin opens his mouth to answer, but Rico interrupts before either of them can say anything. "No, more importantly, why would you leave the chair empty at any point when there's _anyone_ in the water?"

“We were just chatting,” Erd mumbles. “It really was only thirty seconds.”

She sighs again, and sits back. "I don't care if it was half a minute. Neither of you ever let it happen again, or you'll find you've got a real problem. Am I clear?"

“Yes." Erwin says, his tone serious. He’s mostly just grateful that she didn’t fire them both.

"Good. Now get back out there. You've still got a good three hours left before the end of the day," she said, looking at the backs of her fingernails, then pauses and looks back up. “Actually, Smith — wait a second," she says, pausing as her eyes drifted off. 

She gets up and walks across the room, then comes back and puts something on the table. "Take this," she says, pushing it towards him, and Erwin can see that it’s a nitroglycerin pump. "Bring it to the hospital and give it back to that poor kid. I doubt he'll want to drive anywhere but home once he gets out."

"What about my shift?” He realizes he sounds like he’s protesting about being let off early, but, — "I mean there's only five of us, so we’re already short —"

"I’ll cover you. Just bring it.” 

Shrugging again, he picks up the pump and turns on his heel, going for the door. He wasn’t about to complain about a side quest, especially not on paid time.

* * *

“Pardon,” Erwin says. The receptionist at the front desk looks up from his crossword puzzle. “I have this for a patient here.”

He looks up at Erwin and says, “Name?”

“Erwin Smith.”

“Of the patient you’re visiting, sir.” The guy looks pretty thoroughly unamused, and Erwin feels himself swallow nervously.

“Right!” he stumbles, laughing, wishing he could evaporate on the spot. “Of course. Er, Armin... Arlert? He forgot his nitroglycerin pump when the paramedics took him from where I work.”

The receptionist picks up a pen and scribbles down a number on a paper, ripping it off and handing it to him. “He’s in room 2B.17. On the left of the hallway.”

“Thanks,” Erwin says, looking at he slip of paper.

“Just give him his pump and leave though, alright? Visitation is really only reserved for family most of the time. I’m making an exception, but only because it's for essential medication, alright?”

Erwin has frankly no idea where he’s really going as he walks away from the desk. It takes him probably ten minutes before he manages to find the 2B wing, hand hovering over the door, pausing before he knocks gently three times.

“Come in,” a voice calls inside, and he turns the handle. 

Armin is sitting upright in the bed, a cup of something beside him, his phone in his lap. 

“Hey,” Erwin offers weakly, and he smiles, though he looks a bit confused.

“Hey, what’s up?” His shoulder-length hair is dried now, pulled back into a loose ponytail. The bronze rims of his glasses are perched delicately on his slightly upturned nose. “What are you doing here?”

“You left your pump at the front desk when they wheeled you off,” Erwin says, placing it on the bedside table. “Rico asked me to bring it to you.”

“Thanks,” he smiles, and something warm settles in Erwin’s stomach. Once again, he can’t help but think about how he looks sort of cute perched on the bed, cross-legged. “I appreciate the favour.”

“It’s no problem,” Erwin assures him. He takes the paper the receptionist has given him, and scribble his phone number on the back, pressing it down on the table. 

"Here," he says, “You can feel free to call or text me if you need something else later, okay?”

Armin arches an eyebrow at him. “You seem to go above and beyond the call of duty, don’t you?” he jokes, and Erwin smiles.

“Just in case you need anything. I still feel bad about earlier,” he says, sheepish.

“It’s fine,” Armin replies, shaking his head lightly. “ I’ve got a variant form, it just kicks up at weird times. It’s heart spasms, not your fault.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” Erwin asks. 

Armin opens his mouth, but the door swings open before he has a chance to answer.

The small paramedic from before walks in, his eyes narrowing at Erwin. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, “but we’re not supposed to let anyone in who isn’t family.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all.

There’s a moment where Erwin is tempted to lie, to puff out his chest and say something, but the way the paramedic just _stares_ at him lets him know that that may just be an incredibly bad idea. 

“Right,” he says instead, straightening up. “I’ll leave then.” He turns back to Armin and forces a little smile. “See you soon, hopefully.”

He beams back at him, tapping the phone number Erwin has left on the table, and Erwin’s heart jumps. “Me too.”

“Alright, come on now,” the paramedic sniffs, annoyed. He holds the door open for Erwin, ushering him out before closing it behind them. “Rules are rules, even if it’s your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Erwin snaps immediately, knows exactly how defensive, how _juvenile_ it sounds the second the words are out of his mouth, cheeks flushing against his will. He glances at the guy to be sure he hasn't noticed yet, to see if he can find a name tag, or really anything to identify him other than short, pointed, and mean, but there’s nothing on his lab coat from what Erwin can see.

The guy rolls his eyes. "If you say so."

“Rico mentioned you two used to date though." Again, it's childish, but the way the guy winces in response is a bit too satisfying.

“Yeah, Rico Brzenska, huh. Glad she doesn’t still pretend it didn’t happen.” he says, walking away from him towards the exits. Erwin pauses, and stumbles after, curious.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stares, blinks twice. “It's nothing horrible, if that's what you're hoping for. We weren’t together for long is all. Girls aren't really... for me.” He looks back at Erwin and adds, “Something I guess we have in common.”

“I told you I’m not dating that kid,” Erwin repeats, annoyed. He’s brutally aware how stilted the words are.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not gay,” the guy counters. He looks Erwin up and down, and snorts. “I hope for your sake "that kid" has a superhero kink.”

“Rico asked me to return his pump to him.” Erwin moves towards the front door, the guy following as he turns. It strikes him he has no idea why they’re still even walking together. “Where are you even going?”

“Home,” he answers simply. “Got other things to do, and I’m off my shift in like, —” he pauses, checking his watch, “— two minutes? I don’t think administration will mind the early clock-out,” he jokes. 

He shrugs off his labcoat and throws it in an office as they walk by. There's a grace, a kind of fluidity to his actions that Erwin can't help but catch himself admiring, for all his crass.  Whatever the guy’s issue was, he doesn’t seem to care much about presentability. It’s something Erwin can kind of respect, would probably respect more if he weren’t so clearly and intentionally rough around the edges.

The guy shrugs, and says, “Well, I don’t know your name, but —”

“Erwin,” he inserts dully.

He raises his eyebrow, and Erwin shrugs. 

“Wow. Your parents must _not_ have liked you much to give you an old man name,” he snorts, and Erwin’s nose crinkles in response. 

“Do you have anything nice to say?” he asks, more than a little miffed.

The guy sighs, shakes his head dismissively and ignores the comment. “Look, if you do get with him, be respectful. It’s not easy, and he’ll probably feel inadequate based on the age difference.” He pauses, and looks Erwin up and down. “...You _are_ a decent bit older than him, right? He looks like he's still a kid.”

Erwin’s surprised at that reply, if anything. Doesn’t expect actual, solid concern, but he can tell that the words are genuine, and he finds himself wondering briefly if the guy actually knows Armin, or just understands what it’s like to be in his shoes. He supposes it doesn’t really matter that much.

“For the last time,” Erwin says, smoothly, “I’m not interested in him, but thank you for your concern.” The blatant falseness of the statement rolls off his tongue a little too easily, but he finds that he doesn’t really care.

"Right. And I’m not a reclusive med student,” he quips back. “Now we’re both liars." 

Erwin blinks, confused and the paramedic — or rather, the resident, he thinks? — must have noticed it too, because now he’s glaring back with a frigid expression. 

"What?"

Erwins tongue swipes over his lips, licking them. ”You’re a student?”

"Yeah, I'm 26.” He shrugs, and adds, “I mean, technically I finished my actual degree last semester at Sina, but I’m working in residency now. What about it?" 

They walk out into the parking lot, and he pulls out a set of car keys, mashing the unlock button twice. A new looking Subaru honks in response. The tiniest curl of envy rises in Erwin’s gut as he thinks about his own car, a 1996 Honda with two different coloured doors.

"It was a gift from my parents.” he says, reading Erwin’s mind. “For graduating.” 

They get to his car, and he pulls open the door. “And I'm thinking I’ll specialize in cardiology. That's why I was there to pick him up actually, Ian thought I should get some firsthand experience. Angina in younger kids is rare." His voice is aloof as he speaks, Armin seemingly just another patient to observe. It’s an odd switch from the subtle concern he’d had not a moment before, when he’d been warning Erwin to stay respectful.

He turns around to look at Erwin, holding the door open with his hand as he does, one foot in the car. “And, don't kill the stupid kid in bed, alright? Heart problems and all? Paperwork is my least favorite part of the job."

“Right,” Erwin says, gritting his teeth.

“You headed back to work?” he asks. 

Erwin shrugs. "I guess."

“Want a lift?”

Erwin freezes up, a bit shocked. He — well he wasn’t upset at the prospect of a lift, but the act of kindness after everything else feels… out of place. 

He shakes his head, flashes him his bus card and says, “I’ll be fine. It’s one bus, and probably way out of your way.”

“Suit yourself,” the guy mumbles, and climbs in, starting the engine. 

There’s a moment before he slams the door closed where Erwin realizes he’s still curious though, the peculiar encounter lighting… well, _something_ in his gut. He wouldn’t be so keen to call it curiosity, but it’s certainly there.

He hesitates, then knocks on the glass and gestures as though rolling down the window. 

The glass slides down, the man's brow furrowing. “Changed your mind?”

“You never told me your name.” He doesn’t think he’s likely to ever see him again, but he’s… intrigued. At least, that word feels as though it feels like it fits better for what he's feeling than curious does. 

The eyebrow shoots up again, pewter grey eye squinting back at him.  "I —" and the guy's brow screws up, a bit surprised. He contemplates it, wets his lips curiously and seems to come to a decision. 

“It's Levi," he says, His mouth wraps around the two syllables slowly.

He rolls up the window, and Erwin catches him glancing back one last time as the engine revs, and the car pulls out of the parking lot.

* * *

“ _Who,_ now?” Mike asks through a mouthful of noodles.

“Levi,” Erwin says, scrolling down the Facebook feed in front of him. “Can’t find him anywhere.”

Mike grumbles and shoves more thai food into his mouth. “Why d’you care so much?” he asks.

“I _don’t_ ,” Erwin snaps back. It’s just annoying him, because it’s almost as though Levi doesn’t exist at all online; there’s no Facebook account, no Twitter, no Instagram with any pictures of the dark haired man from earlier today. It’s not like Erwin particularly cares. He’s just curious.

He leans back on the couch and yawns, looking away. His phone buzzes, and when he checks, all the screen says is that it's from an unknown number. Mike hears it too, his face perking up.

“Who’s that?” he asks, and Erwin glances at the screen. The message written across it is just _hello?_

“Not sure.” He shrugs, and types an answer.

_Hey, who is this?_

_It’s Armin from earlier,_ the number says.

Erwin sits upright in the chair, a cushion scrunched up to his chest. “Shit.”

Mike groans dramatically. “What now?”

“Remember that kid who almost drowned earlier today?” Erwin asks, and he nods back.

“The one you were hot for?” Erwin throws the pillow at him, and he bats it away, spilling some of his food on the carpet as he does. “C’mon Erwin, I’ve known you since grade school. Course I noticed.” He grins. “You’re not exactly subtle, y’know.”

“You’re cleaning that up,” Erwin informs him plainly, blushing straight down to his collarbones as he snatches the pillow off the floor, hugging it to his stomach again. “And, he just texted me.”

Mike sits up too now, alert. 

“ _Seriously?_ ” He whoops and lifts his hand for a high five, which Erwin ignores to type out another message. Mike frowns. “Hey, don’t leave me hanging.”

“I’m gonna ask him to go to dinner with me,” Erwin declares, and Mike laughs. 

“A little old-fashioned, aren’t we?” he says, and drops the hand again. “Why not start with a movie?”

Erwin doesn’t really care to explain the million reasons why not start with a movie. They make for bad dates in his experience. If he wanted to sit in a dark room and not talk to someone, he would just ask to do that instead. He knows they _can_ end well, of course, if you’re into each other physically, but they’re just really not wonderful forums to get to know someone in. And, not to be graphic, but — the way his stomach roils uncomfortably at the thought of actually _touching_ Armin right now tells him that that isn’t what he’s interested in at the moment. He just… _likes_ the guy, he supposes.

But Mike is also right though, in a different way. There’s something too formal about starting with dinner these days. He sighs into his palm, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

The three little dots blip up again, his phone buzzing as he receives another text. _how are you?_

“You may be right,” he mumbles, looking at the phone. “Coffee, maybe?”

“I’m always right,” Mike replies. “Did you text back yet?” 

“Just mailing it now,” Erwin says, and Mike smacks his forehead and swears loud enough that it startles Erwin right out of his seat. 

“ _Shit!_ Do you mind going to get the mail? I forgot to bring it up when I came in.”

Erwin’s lips press together in a tiny frown. “You got home almost two hours after me.”

He waves Erwin away, clearly a little uncomfortable, but still incredibly distracted by the TV. “I know, I know. Just help me out this one time. The way this episode has been building, someone's definitely about to do something cool,” he says, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Erwin sighs, drop his phone and walks to the entrance. He tugs his shoes on, not bothering to straighten the backs of them. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Love you too bro!” Mike calls after him, the door falling closed at his back.

There’s no elevator in their apartment complex, so he ambles down the short hallway and the three flights of stairs to where the mailboxes are in the lobby. 

Erwin has never actually been able to figure out _why_ they’re set up like this or who could have ever thought it was a good idea, but the box for their apartment is right behind where the door opens up. It’s been hardly a year since moving in, but he already can’t count the numerous occasions when Mike or him have been hit in the head by people who didn’t see them as they walked in the building. 

The lock usually sticks a little bit, and tonight is no different as Erwin rattles the key in its socket. “Come _on_ ,” he groans quietly, bent over, trying to force it open. 

He hears the door open behind him, but by time his brain registers what the sound is, the handle has already smacked into his temple.

Erwin grabs his head, a long and exceptionally colourful series of words hissing through his teeth, forgetting about the key entirely. The person who opened the door is standing in the stairwell, a bag of groceries hanging from each hand as they prop the door open with their hip.

“ _Fuck,”_ he hears, and Erwin looks up, eyes widening as he does. "Sorry, I didn’t see you. Are you ok?” 

Their gazes lock against each other. Erwin watches in slow motion at the recognition flash briefly across the guy's face.

Neither of them speaks, but the small build, the undercut black hair parted down the middle, the relentless scowl as he meets Erwin’s eyes are all exactly as they had been that afternoon. 

Levi breaks the silence first with a sigh, a delicate little huff of air that pushes past his lips as they flatten into a soft frown.

“Of course.”

* * *

Hanji is positively howling the next day when Mike and Erwin tell her everything that's happened. 

“That’s really just your luck, isn’t it,” she hiccups, wiping a tear from her eye. “ _God_ , I aspire to have the same level of chaos in my life someday.”

Erwin smiles, looks down and laughs as well. He’s trying his best not to let on to just how much he’d wanted to die on the spot in the lobby. Hanji is also in med school at Sina right now, but she’s only just starting her last year.

“He’s really something else sometimes,” Mike agrees, grinning and biting down into his slice. Takeout two nights in a row is excessive, but Hanji always visits on Friday nights, and they usually get pizza to keep it simple. “Helping him with his _groceries_ , too.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Erwin asks indignantly, defensive as all hell. “He comes in — and he’s — he’s _little_ , for one thing, carrying like four bags that are bigger than him —”

“He’s not an old lady, Erwin,” Hanji says, and then breaks down laughing again. “Although, from the way you describe him, that’s about all I can picture.”

“No, no, he’s not an old lady at all! Old ladies are supposed to be nice, and this guy just has this perpetual — this _scowl_ on him, like someone’s just kicked his puppy.”

“So why’d you help him?” she asks, and Erwin finds his mind rolling back to Levi in the parking lot.

_You headed back to work? Want a lift?_

He shrugs. “I just felt like making sure he didn’t feel too badly about it.”

“He didn’t,” Mike assures him, voice dripping with sarcastic certainty.

Erwin look at his phone and opens the conversation from yesterday. The awkward, simple exchange of _how are you?_ stares back at him, the still-unanswered question floating silently. 

He types out a new message, impulsively mashing the send button before his instincts could tell him otherwise.

_Hey, sorry I didn’t answer. do you want to get coffee sometime or hang out? we can talk then :)_

Three little dots appear on the screen a few seconds after, and Erwin is honestly a little surprised at how quickly he’s seen it.

“Erwin?” Hanji repeats, and he snaps back into the room. 

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I just asked what happened after that,” she repeats, grinning. “But, based on how thoroughly absorbed you are in your phone, I’m also interested in who you’re texting.”

“Just the same guy I was telling you about,” he says, tucking my phone into his jeans. “It’s not particularly eventful from there, though. He just went into his house, and I walked back down to the mailbox, got our stuff, and came back to our apartment.”

“Hold on, I’m confused,” she says, forehead wrinkling. “You mean this Levi guy was texting you just now?”

“No, no, the other one,” Mike clarifies, “the one Erwin was hot for.” He ignores the absolutely scathing glare that Erwin shoots him. “He apparently dropped his number when he went to the hospital or something.” 

“Oh my _god,”_ Erwin groans. He can feel an unreal level of embarrassment twisting in his belly at the blazé way Mike presents it, practically all 7 meters of his gut coiling into a hot little ball of shame.

Mike sticks his tongue out playfully before continuing. “Levi’s the one who lives here, Armin is the one he’s texting. Erwin's hot for both of them.”

_"One_ of them," Erwin corrects, and Mike just shrugs.

"Tell yourself what you need to, man."

“Right,” Hanji says. In the time it’s taken for Mike to finish explaining, she’s migrated from the couch to the kitchenette, digging through the fridge and coming up with Mike's thai leftovers. “Can I?”

“Sure.”

She takes a bite, and chews thoughtfully before swallowing. “And you don’t know this guy’s last name, right?”

“I could probably find it out,” Erwin admits slowly, thinking to Rico. In hindsight he probably should have asked her when it first came up. Now that it’s been over 48 hours since then though, he can’t help but feel like it would be a little weird.

“Hm,” Hanji hums. “Sina’s med school is well known, but pretty exclusive. There’s only a thousand or so students who are accepted per year, and even less who graduate. I knew a lot of the upper year students myself thanks to the tutoring program that was run.”

Mike grunts in agreement, and watches her. “So what’s your point?” He seems to be waiting for some kind of explanation, and she pouts at him.

“So,” she continues, looking directly at Mike as though to say _let me finish_ , making a careful gesture with her hand. The other one is clutching her chopsticks, the take-out container set carefully on the counter, noodles dangling dangerously, “I’m thinking about the graduates from _last_ year. Levi's not exactly a common name.” 

Mike groans. “Does it _actually_ matter that much? You’re both being weird about it.”

Hanji ignores him entirely, and continues. 

“The only guy who kind of fits your description was this kid called Rivaille. It’s not the same name, but it sounds familiar to it at least.” She take another bite, and pauses. “I wonder if “Levi” is an anglicization. He was pretty infamous.”

Erwin thinks back to his Facebook stalking from the day before, vaguely remembering seeing someone with that name in Rico’s friend list. But it hadn’t occurred to him at the time that Levi might use a different name online, so he hadn’t looked at it too closely. 

“It’s possible, I guess,” he says, thinking. Her theory did have some weight to it. “Give me a second.”

Erwin pulls out his phone again. He finds his way back to Rico’s profile and types in _Rivaille_ this time in the search bar over her friend’s list. Only one profile pops up in response, and his stomach flips, Hanji’s legs folding into the couch next to him as she sits. Even Mike presses closer to get a better look.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Hanji says, tapping the picture. “Rivaille Ackerman.”

As soon as Erwin takes a closer look, he can see that it’s definitely Levi from the pool. Same build, same curve of his jaw, same light eyes staring upwards in the photograph, head angled towards the ceiling. It’s tilted almost imperceivably to the left, adam's apple prominent against his throat, and the photo looks professionally taken, purple UV lights framing his shoulders from the behind.

“How’s he infamous?” Mike grunts, breaking the silence.

Hanji shrugs. “He’s just a weird dude. Reclusive as hell. Doesn’t talk to anyone else. There was a rumour that during his cadaver dissection lab, he finished and walked out early, and when the school went back to check after, his was missing, like, a _bunch_ of its ribs.” Mike shudders a little, and Hanji laughs. “I don’t really believe it though.”

“I don’t really know if we can call him weird after group-stalking him,” Erwin sighs, and Hanji’s chuckles again. 

Mike’s takeaway from her explanation is entirely different from Erwin’s, though. “You dissect human bodies?”

She nods.

“It’s a staple part of your first year, really. Rite of passage.”

Erwin doesn’t really know how to take any of that, so he swipes to the next picture on Levi’s profile instead. He’s learned over the years that it’s better not to question anything potentially odd that Hanji says. It tends to only open up more questions.

This one has Levi’s back to the camera now, and he’s in what looks like a spandex full-body swimsuit, leaning on what remains of a decaying wooden fence and looking out onto a body of water. Erwin scrunches up his nose, puzzled. He’s never seen an outfit like that before. He feels a small twist in his gut as he notices the curve of Levi’s thighs, the way his back runs tense with muscle, taut and powerful underneath the fabric, and shakes his head as though to physically dislodge the thought. 

But, against whatever dignity Erwin may have left, his eyes dart back anyways. He can feel a blush slowly creep its way onto his face, completely mortified at the weird bubbling forming deep in his stomach. It’s embarrassing to admit, but he hadn’t noticed at all how — how _toned_ Levi is.

The sun comes from the left side of the frame, casting mottled shadows of the trees over the scene, the lake shining in the background. To the right, there’s the corner of what looks to be a building made of cement blocks and the same steel plating that cargo containers are made from.

“Well,” Erwin jokes, “this one’s a whole lot less of a serial killer vibe, you gotta admit.” The strange building and the suit give off a bit of an odd vibe, but it’s more charming than anything else, he thinks. Quietly, he wonders what the context behind the image was. 

“You know, minus the unmarked potential _murder-shack_ he’s standing right next to,” Mike mutters, and Hanji’s head tilts back as she snorts.

“Sorry,” she snickers, “sorry. I’ve — uh, I’ve seen his profile before, I think, but not that picture,” Hanji says. She’s still struggling to keep a straight face as she does, leaning closer. “But I dunno, I’ve also never really gone through it before, just seen it in passing.” 

Before Erwin can stop her, she taps the ‘see more’ option, and a location pops up, as well as about twenty other people tagged, which is odd because there's only Levi in it. 

“Orvud,” she muses. “I didn’t know he went there before.”

“Undergrad, probably,” Mike chimes in. “Then a transfer student to Sina from there, I guess. But it’s nearly impossible to transfer from one of the southern universities to the north. His grades must have been literally perfect.” He furrows his nose, stares at the picture, and adds, quietly, “Do you have any idea who the tags are?”

Hanji opens her mouth to say something, but a message alert from Armin pops up before they get the chance. Erwin jumps, and shoos them both away from the phone, reflexively twisting his body to the side.

_Sounds great :)_

He flops back on the couch, grinning in victory, and Hanji pokes him roughly. Erwin is too pleased with himself to notice, and the lack of reaction is enough to make an eyebrow hike its way up her forehead.

“Hey, what’s up with you big guy?” she prods. 

Mike laughs, peers over Erwin's shoulder. “Judging by the contact name? He probably has a date.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hesitant to post this bc the characterization feels wrong, but oh well. enjoy? maybe more eventually, leave comments  
> __________________________________________________________________
> 
> edit: ok, so, this got much better reception than i anticipated, and people actually want more? dope.
> 
> the problem is, i wrote this literally an AGE ago when i was still mainly only comfortable with first person writing, which i kind of hate to use now for myself and everyone around me. (it's valid if you like it! but for me i found it was an excuse to not ever learn how to express a characters thoughts implicitly, and i've grown out of it since.) i also......... did not write this recently, per se. i took something i wrote ages ago and posted it without actually editing much beyond rewriting a few scenes and making them sliiiightly less cringe (you can still find the original out on ao3 somewhere, not that you want to :')) and then posted it because... the whole two cakes comic strip thing. someone comment a link, fucking you know the one from tumblr circa 2012
> 
> long story short! i sorta love/hate it rn, cause i WANT to write more and i like the idea and i still have the storyboarding saved, but i absolutely don't wanna write in 1st person or *shudders* with the same style and level of writing i used years ago so it *matches*! therefore i'm working on altering it to fit into the rest of the fic more neatly asap, and will keep posting other chapters in the meanwhile bc who am i to deny the masses? but yeah that being said, i'm gonna be continuing in 3rd person and the writing style is probably going to feel different from the first chapter.
> 
> anyways. i'm also gonna move this into the end notes of this chapter too n put a separate foreword in ch 1 once i update it, so i rec coming back here every once in a while if you wanna see how it comes out.
> 
> im also working on a separate fic or five atm, oops
> 
> god some of this REALLY needs to be revamped tho, I'm gonna probably be doing that piece by piece
> 
> thanks yall  
> -zu  
> (last updated on december 17h, 2020. new chapter (3) in progress.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise, bitch ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) bet you thought you'd seen the last of me

* * *

Erwin is, as far as certainty goes, fairly certain that he’s probably run into Levi before.

In hindsight, with the sheer amount of times one of their neighbours has thwacked him or Mike in the head, it shouldn’t even be the first time Levi has hit him coming into the building. He just supposes he hadn’t retained what Levi had looked like.

As far as probability goes, this is what would make the most sense, he decides.

But if Erwin accounts for the way that he knows himself, he’s also fairly certain he _would_ have remembered.

Levi’s not _ugly_ , not by a long shot in fact. If Erwin were a little more attracted to — well, _verbal_ _abuse,_ for one thing _,_ — he might even have said he were handsome. Had it been Levi ramming the door handle into Erwin’s skull, instead of the regular assortment of his 70 and 80 year-old neighbours, it most definitely would have stuck in his brain. He almost feels like it’s little unfortunate actually, when he thinks about it, that he’d sort of gotten to know Levi before he could have let himself pine over him as an attractive stranger, only realizing how much he appreciates Levi’s physical self after experiencing the less-than-savoury parts of his personality.

If anything, Erwin is also a little miffed at how easily the guy reads into him.

After he’d dropped the bags of groceries at his apartment, Levi had stared him straight in the eye and said, “You know, I only offered you a lift earlier to be polite. You don’t have to be nice in response.”

“I—“ and Erwin had faltered, because that had been _exactly_ why he had been being nice. Upon actually being confronted with the statement though, Levi waiting patiently for him to confirm or deny it, he finds he’d actually rather shove knives into his eyes than tell him that he’s right. 

“It’s not the _only_ reason,” he exclaims finally, a bit snubbed. The statement is clearly false, even to his own ears.

“Relax, Captain America.” Levi had rolled his eyes, sniffing. “Doesn’t make you a bad person if it is. I’m just saying you don’t need to like, feel obliged to do anything for me. We’re not exactly friends.”

Erwin had shrugged, shoved his hands somewhere deep inside his pockets. “As you wish.”

The word _captivating_ doesn’t really convey the right meaning, Erwin thinks, but there’s definitely something that rubs him all the wrong ways about Levi, and yet still draws him in further. He could also just be attracted to him, he supposes, and yet the very idea of dating him feels so repulsive that Erwin actually has to stop himself from physically gagging. He can’t imagine that there’s a single redeeming quality of Levi’s person that would make him worth dating. 

Alright, fine, that may be a little harsh. He’s annoyed, though.

And — sure, he’s known for a very long time that he _does_ like men — has had a tight loop on his sexuality since he and Mike were fourteen, when he’d found himself teetering precariously between a girlfriend and the undeniable butterflies his best friend gives him. He’d eventually concluded that they both made him feel the same way, the crush fading over time. The implications, however, remained.

The problem he has with that is the sheer amount of time it had taken him to draw that conclusion. He'd spent _years_ denying it, figuring himself out, and the fact that Levi — Rivaille? — _whatever_ his name was, could call him out so easily in a matter of minutes? It’s bound to set him off, would set anyone off a little. He doesn’t look gay, doesn’t think he does at least. Had it been how he'd smelled that day, or some dumb shit like that? He just _likes_ women’s shampoos more, they're _objectively_ better.

“I think you’re overthinking this,” Mike interrupts.

Erwin sighs, flicks on the kettle and grimaces. “I’m overthinking it because it’s _irritating_ me.”

“So what?” Mike asks him. “I get irritated by all the little fruit flies we get this time of year. Doesn’t mean I stomp around the apartment hunting them down one by one.”

He scoffs lightly. “ _Not_ the same thing, Mike.”

“The little brat’s about the same size. If you’re going to waste your energy trying to squish him, at least figure out whether or not it’s worth the amount of time he’ll take you to pin down.”

He supposes Mike has a point.

“You know I’m right,” Mike huffs. 

Erwin notes in that moment that he also actually doesn’t mind so much when Mike or Hanji can guess what’s on his mind. After years of living together, it’s a privilege he’s sort of earned. He considers maybe the reason it’s upsetting then is that he just doesn’t _like_ Levi enough to let him go rummaging through his thoughts.

“I just,” Erwin starts, and pauses, trying to find the right words. “I don’t even know if next week is a _date_ or not. If it is, then I need to sort myself out before then.”

“Why?” He flips the electric kettle off before it rumbles to a full boil and pours it into his cup, careful not to spill or accidentally pour any onto himself, pulls the teabag out of its packaging and stares back at Erwin expectantly.

Erwin thinks carefully before he opens his mouth.

“Because if I _am_ just confused, I owe it to Armin to have my own thoughts sorted out before I confuse him too.” The words are soft, deliberately chosen. “I don’t think it’s fair to realize that you’re actually attracted to someone once you start seeing someone else.”

Mike literally snorts at that.

“No offence,” he says, “but you literally owe Armin nothing.” He drops his teabag into the cup and watches it sink to the bottom. “If being in a relationship means never being attracted to anyone else to you, then I don’t know how to break it to you, but —“

Erwin interrupts before Mike has the chance to finish. 

“I _know_ it doesn’t mean that, of course,” he says. “But I don’t want to go into something with a secondary complication already in the air.”

“You don’t actually know if you’re going into anything,” Mike points out, and Erwin’s mouth snaps shut again. 

“I suppose,” he mutters.

He places a reassuring hand on Erwin’s shoulder, eyes softening into a smile. “And, you’ve already got the date planned out. Just go. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Erwin shuffles his feet awkwardly, watches a fruit fly crawl its way across the linoleum tiling of their kitchen. He sighs, and this time the thwack delivered to his shoulder is a little rougher. 

“C’mon, brighten up. I’ll make you hot chocolate, there’s enough water left.”

His face finally breaks into a tiny little grin.

“That would be nice.”

* * *

Erwin bounces from foot to foot, hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets as he waits outside the shop. It's been a while since he's been out on a proper date, his hair slicked back with just the tiniest amount of gel. The stiff feeling of his scalp is enough that he regrets putting the product in his hair at all, wondering silently if it was too much. He knows he’s not typically one to overdress for a situation. He’s got a pretty good sense of style in general, or so Hanji tells him, at least, and the rest of his outfit is plain enough that he doubts it’ll stand out, but it still — it bothers him _just_ enough to grate on his nerves. 

Mike had slapped him on the ass as he was leaving their apartment, toothbrush hanging loosely from his mouth. 

"Damn!" he'd shouted at Erwin’s back, laughing. “Wear a condom, ok?”

And while he loves Mike and genuinely appreciates their relationship as roommates and as friends — Erwin hadn't really liked the implication. Or the fact that Mike had so readily jumped to that conclusion, especially after their discussion the week before.

Sure, it was — questionably, — a date, but Armin is also a decent bit younger than him, for starters. Not quite a kid, but close enough that Erwin’s not exactly gonna be trying to get in his pants after hanging out once. And honestly, Erwin doesn’t know about how serious this’ll end up being in the end at all, even if it is a date. He’s _happy_ about it — they’d definitely had a vibe going on, he wouldn’t have left his number otherwise, — but the thought of sex right now leaves a sour aftertaste on the back of his tongue.

He supposes that maybe it’s Mike’s way of showing support, of trying to keep Levi off of Erwin’s mind.

That and the fact it had been, like, nine in the morning when he’d left. It’s not like anything particularly interesting is ever gonna happen at 9:30 on a Tuesday.

Or, Armin had _said_ he’d be here for 9:30, and 9:30 was ten minutes ago. He sighs and digs his phone out of his pocket, checking the time again, to make sure no one had texted him. It’s only ten minutes, he thinks. His thoughts buzz around the back of his mind uncomfortably.

_What if he stood you up?_

Maybe he should text him. Just to be sure.

And then, before he can even unlock his phone, down the other side of the street, he sees Armin ambling towards him, headphones plugged in. The tense, irrational anxiety of the wait unclenches itself from around Erwin’s throat.

He wraps the wire of his earbuds, tucks them into his pocket and glances around the street for a second before he spots Erwin under the overhang of the building. The morning sun picks its way through the leaves overhead, casting a mottled shadow over his features, blonde hair falling around his eyes and framing possibly the most innocent smile Erwin has ever seen. 

For a second, just the briefest moment, his mind flashes back to what Mike had said about _condoms_.

Erwin shakes his head as though physically trying to dislodge the thought, and could he _please_ turn off whatever part of his brain is responsible for _visualizations_ —

“Hey,” Armin beams up at him. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” Erwin replies. “Great. Awesome.” He’s trying to erase the image, too distracted by the overwhelming feeling of _gross_ with himself to come up with a better answer.

“Er. Right.” Armin looks a little weirded out at the response, still smiling, but a little puzzled, which is totally fair, Erwin thinks. It had been a strange thing to say. “You ok?”

“Never been better,” Erwin says, pouring all his focus into just keeping a straight face and a neutral tone. “Shall we?”

Armin smiles and nods again. A tight little knot of guilt wells up in Erwin’s chest.

They walk in and sit near the front window, the place practically empty, beyond the workers and a few other people scattered throughout. If it had been up to Erwin, he’d probably have suggested meeting up at a Starbucks or something, but Armin had mentioned this little french café in the west end of town. Inside it smells like fresh bread and cinnamon and chocolate, and, honestly, Erwin sort of feels like he’s floating in a cloud. It’s — peaceful.

“Want anything?” Armin asks. 

Erwin blinks back up at him. “I thought I’d be paying.” He’s a little off balance from the suggestion. It’s not that he minds, per se, but he feels like he’s sort of taking advantage of Armin’s naïvety by letting him cover it.

“I wouldn’t usually insist,” Armin says, “but I know the servers here pretty well, and I… well, I kind of want an excuse to say hi to them anyways. Don’t worry about it.”

Erwin shrugs uncomfortably. “Er, sure, I guess? Coffee sounds good.” 

Armin wiggles his eyebrows. “Can I convince you to split an éclair too?”

“Sure,” Erwin says. He feels the tiniest tugging at his lips, relaxing a bit.

Maybe this’ll be an okay date. He swallows and shifts his weight, his arms folding tight around his chest, and tells himself just has to focus on getting through this, step by step.

And yet — while Armin is ordering, Erwin pulls his phone out of his pocket again. He opens up his Facebook app, thumb hovering over the search bar, doesn’t even have to type anything in for Facebook to recommend Rivaille Ackerman’s profile again. It’s — alright, it’s more than a little creepy, he thinks. 

Not that the suggestion on his screen doesn’t tempt him to lean into it, though. He’s been through the whole of Levi’s profile at least a dozen times since he’d first pulled it up with Mike and Hanji last week — the only publicly listed posts are mostly old profile pictures anyways. 

All Erwin can really think is how, if only he had a little less shame, he would have just sent him a message three days ago. 

As it stands, though, he’s not brazen enough to do anything more than scroll through the dozen odd pictures on Levi’s timeline, the one status update about an event from 2015 that had been marked public, and — there’s nothing even _there,_ he has to remind himself — it’s a waste of time either way. Just a fruit fly.

He shoves the phone back into his pocket as Armin comes back to their table, two cups and a plate balanced awkwardly in his arms.

“Shit,” Erwin says, standing and reaching out to steady Armin’s hands as he puts everything down. “Sorry, I should have helped you carry these back.”

“Nah,” he says, shaking his head lightly. “I was fine.” He grins, and Erwin tries to smile back, tries to look as natural as he can. Even he knows that something about it is probably off when Armin looks puzzled again, though.

“You _sure_ you’re alright?” he asks. Erwin nods his head.

“Just — thinking,” he breathes evenly. 

There’s another eyebrow lift, but if Armin feels strangely about it, he doesn’t say anything at least, cutting the pastry in two and sliding half of it to Erwin as he does.

* * *

The conversation doesn’t come easily, Erwin finds.

The place is nice enough, and he feels his mind wandering idly to the decor around them until it occurs to him briefly how, probably, when he’s on a date, he should be talking to the other person and not examining the spider plant hanging in a pot across the room. 

But Armin is checking his phone again, and — well, Erwin doesn’t really know how to start a conversation with that. 

It’s been half an hour of the most painstaking back-and-forth chatter about the weather. Erwin is realizing very quickly that, once you get past brute intelligence, — which, to his credit, Armin has an impressive amount of, — it’s painfully obvious that he’s still speaking to a teenager. It’s not a bad thing, he supposes, they just don’t actually have that much in common. In theory three years doesn’t feel like that much, and yet, when considering the sheer amount of maturation Erwin himself has gone through in the last three years, he realizes he probably should have seen this coming.

He clears his throat.

“So,” he says. The sentence already feels lame, sweat pricking the back of his neck. “What sorts of interests do you have?”

Armin cocks his head, glancing back up at Erwin before he redirects his gaze to look out the window. “Well, I like coffee, for starters,” he says.

“Cool.” Great. Awesome reply, Erwin thinks. Erwin has never had a greater affinity to ostriches than in this moment, where he would very much like to stick his head into a sandbank and suffocate himself.

“Yeah,” Armin smiles back. “Like the whole thing where some people think cold brews and iced coffee being interchangeable is weird to me.”

Erwin blinks. “They’re not?” He hadn’t known that.

Armin looks back at him and laughs. “See? It’s sort of self explanatory, but no one thinks about it. Cold brew is slow brewing in cold water, and iced coffee is just tossing ice cubes in it. The difference is an iced coffee isn’t as concentrated, so when the ice melts, it tends to be too weak to taste good anymore. That, and the fact you need a ton of milk and sugar for it to even taste good in the first place.”

“Huh,” Erwin says. “Learn something new every day.”

“Right?” Armin jokes. “That’s why I like this place so much. They make genuinely high-quality stuff.” He pauses to take a sip, and Erwin watches how his lips wrap around the edge, and — _no,_ not that. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, then adds, for good measure, “I don’t really know much about coffee at all. Starbucks is convenient, I suppose, but it’s expensive and arguably not the best.”

“ _God,_ thank you,” Armin laughs. “It’s just paying for the name, honestly.”

Erwin shrugs. He agrees, he _thinks_. Erwin doesn’t really know what to do beyond shrug even if he doesn't. He hasn’t had the energy to care much about the quality of the caffeine he puts into his body for a few years now, and — it occurs to him briefly to maybe ask about something else.

“What brands _would_ you typically buy for yourself, then?” he asks carefully, and Armin shrugs.

“I mean, I still live at home, so whatever’s around. I like getting nice beans when and where I can manage.”

And — yeah, there it is. Armin still lives at home. Armin graduated highschool probably only a few months ago, and has enough time to care about specific coffee brands, and — Erwin’s aware he sounds hypercritical as he’s thinking all of this. Maybe the kid really just has a burning passion for coffee. He knows he _feels_ hypercritical thinking all of this, but it’s still factual and true and sits in the pit of his gut like a stone. He’s attracted to Armin, on a physical level, but, emotionally, Armin is still a teenager, who probably hasn’t been in any very serious relationships before. Erwin — hasn’t really either, to be fair, but there’s such an emotional dissonance between them at this point that he feels weird even sitting in his chair. He’s sweet and genuinely nice and pretty smart, but — maybe if they’d met a few years down the line, he thinks. The fact he’s internally shifted into thinking about him as a child sort of exemplifies that fact.

He watches as Armin checks his phone again, and frowns. 

“Are you expecting a text from someone?” Erwin asks.

Armin bites his lip, sighs, and says, “No, not really,” and the way it comes out, Erwin has to suppress a chuckle.

“What?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You’re not very convincing,” Erwin replies, still smiling. “It’s ok, I won’t judge you.”

“Well,” he says, and bites his lip again, sliding his glasses back up his nose. “I just — I don’t know if I should mention this considering we haven’t exactly, uh,” and he pauses, struggling to find the right words.

Erwin interjects instead. “We haven’t explicitly clarified what this is, yes.”

Armin’s whole face flushes, ears tinted bright red. “Yeah. That.”

“That’s alright,” Erwin says, and again, ostrich moment, sandbank, knives to his eyes — whatever was necessary to get out of this suffocatingly awkward conversation.

He forces himself to carry on talking anyways, trying to sound friendly enough as he does. 

“The thought had — _occurred_ to me, briefly, that there may be a mutual interest, correct?” he asks, and Armin nods. “And, I don’t mean to sound patronizing as I say this, — you’re still quite attractive, but —“

Armin flinches, laughing a little. “Yeah, no I get it. We’re in slightly different life stages.”

Erwin nods, and laughs as well, the uneasy tension dissipating into the air as soon as he does. “Pretty much. Glad we can agree on that.”

“You’re not like… mad?” Armin asks, and Erwin shakes his head. Why would he be mad? 

“Of course not. I uh,” and he hesitates, not sure he should share this next bit, “I had a fairly long conversation with my roommate actually, about it all. He seemed to think it was worth showing up, but the truth is I’d kind of already realized before I’d even gotten here that it may not end up going anywhere.”

“No, I understand,” Armin says, and he brushes the hair back out of his face. “I think I, uh, probably had a similar talk with my best friend.”

They both sit there for a second, not really able to meet the other person’s gaze, and then suddenly it’s Armin’s turn to clear his throat.

“I _am_ sort of waiting for a text, though,” he admits slowly. His voice squeaks anxiously on the second word, and that alone is enough to make Erwin chuckle knowingly.

“Would you like to tell me about him?”

* * *

He texts Marie the second he gets out of the coffee shop, and slides his phone in his back pocket.

Mike isn’t home when he walks into their apartment, Erwin knows he won’t be home till four when he gets off his shift at the nursery. He’s texted Marie as much, too.

Armin, had, to no surprise, spent the next hour talking dreamily about a boy he had gone to high school with, up until they’d both graduated this spring. To Erwin’s own surprise, it’s actually far less painful than the first half of their conversation.

Apparently his name is Jean, Erwin realizing fast enough that it’s one of his coworkers, the thin, lanky 19 year old who works the front desk Thursdays and Fridays. He’s an arrogant prick, if you asked Erwin, his constant bragging only ever interrupted by his complaints about it being too hot, too crowded, too quiet — honestly, Erwin thinks that absolutely nothing can keep the guy happy, beyond the pool closing every night.

He keeps his mouth shut through all of that though, because who is he to smack-talk the guy? Maybe he’s got some redeeming qualities under his abrasive persona. Armin certainly seems to think so, at least, says that he acts out to cover up his own insecurities, that he’s actually got a wonderful sense of compassion once he warms up to a person. 

And, even if Armin is completely mistaken, drawn up in a childish crush, — which Erwin doesn’t think he is, honestly, he doesn’t seem immature enough for _that_ , — it takes this mind away from his own troubles.

He’s drawn back out of his thoughts by the rapt knocking coming from the entrance. That would probably be Marie, he thinks, glancing through the peephole just to be sure.

The door swings open, Marie’s arms crossed tight over her chest, her hands folded into the crease of her elbows.

“Good afternoon,” he smiles. She shoves her way right past him.

“Are you going to keep trying to protect your dignity like that every time I come over?” she asks, dropping her bag next to the coffee table and twisting around to stare at him. “We’ve been doing this long enough that you don’t need to keep pretending.”

Erwin stands in place, the corners of his mouth drawn downwards into a little frown. “It’s good to see you too.” He’s a bit put off by her answer, and she sighs, peeling her shirt off.

“Come on,” she says. The fabric hits the table, and she steps forwards to push Erwin’s chest, his feet stumbling back towards his bedroom. “I’m not here to have you try and sweet-talk me.”

“I don’t recall texting you anything about wanting sex,” Erwin fidgets.

“Erwin.” She doesn’t even blink as though confused, and he swallows. As though he’s forgotten how easily she reads through his acts, even after all this time. “When in the two years since we broke up has _either_ of us texted for any reason other than to hook up?”

“I called for your birthday,” he says defensively, and she rolls her eyes.

“I haven’t got all afternoon to debate with you. Are we going to fuck, or not?”

He sighs dejectedly. Clearly this wasn’t just about him, it would seem. He wonders what’s happened in her life to make her so… _irritable_.

“Fine.”

Neither of them wastes any time stripping down, hands and feet fumbling as they make their way to the bed, Erwin almost tripping as his pants catch around his ankles. By time they hit the mattress, he’s only wearing his briefs, and Marie is all but naked too.

His hands struggle with the clasp of her bra as she kisses a line down his collarbone. She sucks his neck between her teeth, leaving a mark visibly high enough above the collar that Erwin knows very well he’ll regret when he wakes up for work tomorrow. There’s no tenderness in the gesture, and he knows it, purely functional for the both of them.

“May I?” he asks, and she nods. The lacey fabric falls away from her chest as Erwin undoes the latch with a _snap_.

“Someone finally taught you how to undo a bra?” she jokes, and Erwin shrugs. 

The truth is, he’d complained to Hanji, who actually done _exactly_ that, had — a little too eagerly, actually, — explained all the mechanics of removing one while you couldn’t see what your hands were doing. She’d even offered him the chance to practice, though he’d politely declined. But to Erwin’s credit, he had actually retained most of what she’d said, such as to squeeze the two ends together to allow a little bit of looseness in the binds. It seems to have worked fine.

“Come closer,” he says, gently pulling her in for a kiss. Her lips press together uncomfortably in the wake of it. He makes a mental note not to do it again.

Marie’s body has always fit snugly in the palms of Erwin’s hands, her breasts small and round, his thumbs digging into the indent where her thighs and torso crease together as she drags herself over his body, making her way downwards. He’s aware of how small she is in comparison to him, hips sliding over Erwin’s own as he thinks about the fact he can probably wrap his thumb and forefinger around her wrist with more than a centimetre of space to spare.

She reaches his boxers and falters when she realizes how loose the fabric is.

“ _Seriously_?” she asks, irritated. 

Erwin is completely soft.

He’d like to have a proper explanation for it, but he doesn’t. He’s even the one who texted her this time. The fact he’s having trouble getting it up doesn’t particularly make sense, and Erwin is painfully aware of it.

“I have a lot on my mind, recently,” he says lamely.

“You know what?” she mutters, gathering up her bra in her fist. “It’s fine. I’ll come back another time.” 

She’s halfway to the door when Erwin grabs her by her wrist, spinning her around.

“Wait,” he stutters, “just wait. Let me take care of you first, then.” 

Her eyes dart over the frame, mind already made up as she exhales, a huff of air that catches Erwin’s chest, makes the wispy strands of hair that he has growing there flutter. 

“Alright. But make it quick.”

“You’re still on birth control, right?”

“Yes,” she says, breaking away from him.

She settles back into the bed and beckons him over, slotting his shoulders between her legs as he kneels on the floor. He knows at this point most of what she likes, pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to her clit through the fabric of her underwear, knows the right rhythm to adopt as she writhes under him, knows exactly when she’s getting close based on how she clenches over his fingers.

“Erwin,” she breathes, and it sounds exactly the same as all the other times he’s made love to her. Numbly, he realizes he doesn’t think he’s had sex with anyone _but_ her since they dated. “Come on.”

“You want me to — ?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she mutters. “If you could get on with it a little.”

His eyebrows knead together, tempted to say something along the lines of how her gruffness is doing nothing to help the ever-persisting problem of his dick. He opts rather to run his hand along the length, trying to will himself to stiffen up.

“Just give me a second,” he says, and she sighs loudly, hands falling flat on her stomach.

A few memories wander through his imagination, some more perverse than others. He lets his mind wander aimlessly, tries to think back to the first time they’d had sex, at the start of his relationship with her four years ago, how she’d writhed against the sheets and shouted as she’d come on his tongue, the way her ass quivers as she slams into his hips when she rides him, the way three months ago she’d sucked him off and Erwin had come with such a force he’d thought he might actually black out —

Unintentionally, his thoughts shift towards more recent events, and for the briefest second he imagines it’s Levi against the sheets instead of Marie, black hair splayed across the pillows as he scowls up at Erwin and demands, “Are you gonna fuck me or _not?”_

Erwin’s eyes spring open at the words, surprised. 

“I — what?”

“Put it in already,” Marie pouts.

He frowns right back. “I’m _working_ on —“ and then pauses, looking down.

To his utmost chagrin, he realizes that he’s actually hard.

“Never mind,” he grunts, exasperated.

In one fluid motion, he slides into her, his whole body pressing deeper until their bodies are flush, thighs hooked over his hips. He stays there for a second, feels her squeeze the length of his dick and lets his eyes flutter closed.

“You gonna move anytime soon?” she asks, and his eyelids flick open again.

“Of course.”

The way he fucks Marie now is incredibly different from how they’d had sex when they had still been dating, he realizes. They hardly talk before jumping in bed, and they _definitely_ don’t talk after. It’s all uncontrolled and wild, short, uneven thrusts until both of them get what they came for, and then they part ways again. Briefly, he wonders if she sleeps with other people between their meetings, or if she’s stopped bothering the same way he has. This is all Erwin really needs, to be honest. An outlet for his biological impulses.

He swipes the pads of his fingers under the arch of her back, feels the muscle and the knobs of her spine against them as she twists upwards. It’s intentional, just enough that his cock brushes up against the little ridged spot inside her, and she squeezes again as a gasp pushes past her lips, lets himself slow slightly when she comes, the way she likes it. Erwin probably knows her body better than he knows the creases of his own hand at this point.

There’s a twisting in his gut as he waits for her to ride out the orgasm, thrusts into her a few more times before finishing, body hitting the mattress beside Marie a moment later. An uncomfortable, wet, squelching sound hangs in the air as his cock slips out. Wordlessly, he glances down, and sees his come dribbling off her thighs and onto the sheets.

His nose wrinkles. He’ll have to wash that.

There's an unpleasant moment of silence that fills the room, thick like mucus. Marie breaks it with a groan. 

“I need to go.”

Erwin silently agrees. He can’t remember why he’d wanted to text her in the first place.

“Would you like to use the shower first?” he offers, but she shakes her head.

“Thank you, but I'll just wait.” The words are emotionless, practical, and he wonders whether they’d both feel the way they do about each other and their relationship now if they had broken up on better terms, or stopped hooking up after the fact. Perhaps, he thinks, they could have actually become friends.

“Very well.” A noise somewhere between a heave and a grunt escapes him as he rolls onto his back and forces himself to sit up. He notices Marie’s eyes trace the outline of his stomach.

“You’re getting your abs back,” she notes quietly. Erwin looks down and realizes that, in fact, he actually is.

“Must be losing weight again." He stands up, cracks his spine from side to side.

There's a long, pregnant pause, in which Marie refuses to meet his gaze, and he lifts an eyebrow as though waiting for her response. 

“You know,” she says slowly, “I wouldn’t be totally opposed if we just… well, you know. Went back to before. Fuck it, right?"

He blinks. "I'm not sure I understand."

"I mean, we could get back together, if you wanted to.”

Erwin freezes.

“Do you _sincerely_ think that’s a good idea, Marie?” he asks. “I’m not trying to place blame, but —“

She interrupts before he gets a chance to finish. “I just get frustrated that all you ever seem to want to do is fuck me when you text, and then when I come over and actually ask you to _do_ it, you’re almost — _unhappy_ that I actually showed up. I don't understand it.” Her eyes flit away, guiltily. "The only explanation is that you, — well, that you might still actually have _feelings_ for me, and if that's what this is, —"  


“Marie, you cheated.” The words are heavy on Erwin’s tongue, his voice soft in the glowing light of the afternoon that seeps through his thin curtains. "After two years together."

"And I _still_ don't know why I did," she begs, voice hiccuping at the word _why._ Her face reddens. “I regret it. But if you can find it in yourself to forgive me, I _promise_ you nothing like that would ever happen again.”

Erwin nods, as though considering her words. He knows that she knows him well enough to realize an acknowledgement of what she’s saying doesn’t necessarily mean he agrees.

There’s a pang in his gut where he does actually consider it though. She’s not wrong in her assumption; they’d had a bond that Erwin realizes now is incredibly rare, when they’d been together. But, — and maybe this is why he’d wanted to figure out exactly what he felt about Levi to avoid leading Armin on, — the amount of pain she had caused him when he found out about the affair had been agonizing. It still is, even in hindsight. 

He supposes it makes sense that he considers it though, no matter how briefly. He wants more company. Perhaps it's the same reason he'd found himself drawn to Armin, sought social comfort in the first person who had been able to pique his interest, even fleetingly. At the moment, all he really has are Hanji and Mike, both grad students who have their own problems to worry about, no matter how closely twined their lives are to Erwin’s. He's not still in love with Marie, he knows that much for certain, but the fact that she's indirectly admitted that she's still in love with him is... alluring, to say the least.

It’s that thought in particular that makes something inside Erwin understand that he is, in fact, incredibly lonely.

“I need to wash,” he declares finally, standing. Maybe he’ll get a dog.

By time he gets back from the shower, Marie is already gone.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha the commander has a (really confusing??) crush pass it on
> 
> did i beta this? hell no!  
> comment typos pls


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Mike gets home around five, doesn't waste too much time in the kitchen before he pads his way to his bedroom and shuts the door gently. He doesn't seem to notice, (or, Erwin considers, perhaps he just doesn't want to comment on,) the hickey on the side of Erwin's neck. Erwin supposes it could also be because he's assuming it's related to his date today, and not another encounter with Marie. Truthfully, he knows if Mike realized it was the latter, he would probably be yelling at him right now. Erwin kind of wishes he were yelling at him, in a way. It would remind him of at least one reason why he shouldn't keep calling her.

Later that night, he spends a full five minutes staring at the red, blotchy mark in the mirror, wondering why she'd done it. Marie never typically left marks when they slept together. Neither of them had ever particularly liked it, and she knew just as well as he does that they aren't really close enough anymore to have that kind of intimacy. Had she been planning on asking him to take her back the whole time? 

He ends up writing it off as cross-wired frustration in the heat of the moment, although it's not a completely satisfying answer. 

Wednesdays he only really works afternoons and evenings, and this week is no different. He wakes up early anyways, spends twenty minutes on his phone in bed, and then hauls himself to the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal before going to check the mail.

Levi is in the lobby, lacing his boots when Erwin walks in. There's a gym bag resting by his toes on the floor. Erwin sidesteps him gingerly, trying not to make too much noise as he slides the key into the mailbox lock and turns it.

"Nice pyjamas," Levi snorts.

It takes Erwin a moment to process that he's referring to the light blue pants he'd forgotten he'd worn to bed, with the little penguins patterned across them. He bites his tongue and holds back a sigh.

"Am I going to be running into you with this kind of frequency all the time now?" Erwin asks, ignoring the comment as flips the door of the mailbox closed again. He straightens his back and leans on the wall next to the boxes. "Feels a little odd I've seen you twice in two weeks when I've never seen you in this building before."

Levi crosses his legs in the chair and fixes Erwin with a stubborn little frown across his lips, eyes crinkled at the corners into his regular, perpetual face of discontent. "I sure hope not, for one. You better not be following me around. Creepy old perv."

"How long have you lived here anyways?" Erwin asks, folding his arms. He doesn't even bother to point out that he's actually younger than Levi is, tucks his hands under his armpits instead, still clutching the fliers in his right fist.

"A few months now, I guess. Since May-ish. I don't spend much time around the house."

That would explain why Erwin had never seen him before, then. He supposes with just the wrong timing to their schedules, it's not totally unlikely that he would take a little while to realize they had a new neighbor, even in a small building like theirs.

"I presume that your bag has something to do with that?" he asks, and gestures to the gym bag at Levi's feet. Levi glances down and nods, shrugging.

"Lots of busy hospital nights." His eyes trace the outline of Erwin's jaw, narrowing pointedly when they come to rest on his neck. "Seems like you've had some busy nights recently too."

Erwin's hand instinctively reaches up to cover the mark, and Levi leans back in the chair, smirking. He's tempted to say something about how it's none of Levi's business, his lips creasing into a tiny little frown, cheeks puffed out as he tries to find the right words. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out, and he closes it again lamely.

In the time it takes for him to do all of that, Levi beats him to the punch. "Glad to see leaving that phone number worked out for you, even though you said that... what was it again? That you're not interested in men?" and Erwin feels the lines in his his forehead crease deeper.

There's a moment where it's just Erwin holding his breath, trying not to react too strongly as Levi parrots his own words from a few days ago back at him. Getting upset would only prove his point further, and Erwin is well aware of that fact.

"I'm —" he starts, and his mouth snaps shut a second time now, hesitating. Levi sniffs, the tiniest hint of laughter to it.

He knows that deep down Levi might just not have a sense of Erwin's boundaries, might honestly be just trying to make conversation, but it's the way that his grin rests at the corners of his lips that really lets Erwin know this is just a game. Where others might typically try to avoid unpleasant directness, Levi seems to relish it, and — again, it's part of what pisses him off about Levi assuming he'd been right, about Levi's smug assumptions about any part of his sexuality actually. It leave a foul, bitter taste in his mouth. He generally can't stand people that just seem to enjoy intentionally needling others, but — there's that little curve of his lips again, and his brain flicks back to the image of what Levi's lithe, muscular body would look like sprawled over Erwin's bedsheet —

He inhales, holds the air in his lungs for a moment as he tries to orient himself before answering properly, trying to get his stupid fucking dick to shut up and cooperate for a minute.

"It had nothing to do with Armin," he says finally. "Not that that's any of your business."

The words are a little colder than he intended, and Levi seems to catch on that he may have overstepped, his eyebrows rising for the briefest moment before flitting back into place. If Erwin had blinked, he's fairly certain he wouldn't even have noticed it.

Levi shrugs. "Sure, I guess." He gets up from the chair, slings the gym bag over his shoulder. His nose wrinkles slightly. "Just messing with you. Thought it was funny."

Erwin looks away, careful not to let his expression slip.

"Sorry. That was a bit harsh." The words are barely a whisper. Levi seems to hear it though.

"Whatever." Levi's response is pretty much just a grunt. "I've gotta go if I don't want to be late."

Erwin drops his shoulders and watches him walk away, lets his head fall back against the wall as he hears the door of Levi's car slams outside.

* * *

He'd told Mike about Marie when he's about to leave for work the next morning, because he knows it'll keep the conversation short.

"Not again, dude," he'd groaned, dropping his fist against the kitchen table with a _thud._ "You need to stop letting her in here."

"I know," Erwin had said, tempted to add something about how Mike has old flings over all the time. But he knows it isn't the same; Mike has _never_ had a relationship that tossed him into a spiral the same way Erwin's breakup did, and he does appreciate that Mike is trying to protect him, in a way. Erwin knows in part he's especially protective now because he'd had to watch as Erwin had spent six months languishing in that hole, depressed as all hell.

"I'm serious," Mike had insisted. His forehead had been furrowed together in a mix of frustration and concern. "If you keep going back after all this time, maybe you should be asking yourself if you ever truly got over it."

That sentence had actually managed to make Erwin scoff.

"I'm fine, Mike," he'd laughed. "I'm not in love with her."

He'd scowled, looked out the window and sniffed. "I'm not so sure. One of the first dates I've seen you go on since you've broken up, and you have her over the same evening. You'd better not be."

By time Erwin gets home later that night, his roommate is already asleep. It's early, only nine, but he has to be up at work by five thirty in the morning to water the seedlings at the nursery, so it's not that surprising really.

In the time it takes him to make dinner, Erwin registers that it feels a little unfair Mike doesn't actually seem to trust him with his own feelings, even when he knows he's been stupid enough to warrant it in the past. He'd overlooked many, many red flags in trying to believe the best of Marie, and he knows that that's probably also why Mike is so concerned about him letting her back in. To Erwin's credit, it's only because it's convenient at this point. He's never been the type to go out to bars and look for someone new to hook up with, — hell, he'd met Marie at a book club. The concept of sex to him feels... well, again, more like a biological obligation than something he actually typically enjoys a whole lot. He used to like it more, to be fair, knows that he'd probably like it a lot more if he were emotionally invested with his partner, but... some things are too much trouble. His outing with Armin alone had been a reaffirmation of that.

That being said, the fact that he keeps imagining how Levi's waist would probably fit snug between his palms is... odd, to say the least.

Levi is more fully formed, and — well, more of an adult, probably. Erwin can't exactly see himself finding that emotional attachment with the abrasiveness of Levi's personality, not if he's always as prickly as he's been thus far, but that doesn't mean there isn't something physically enticing about him.

The thought lingers for a moment before he pushes it aside, focusing on the dishes in the sink. It’s not worth yearning over for too long; he hardly even knows if Levi is single, or for that matter, interested. He’s established he likes men, sure, but — that didn’t mean he would be planning on going after anyone right now, much less Erwin specifically. Levi’s probably got his own routines, or something similar to what Erwin has established with Marie. Most adults do, from what he can tell, whether that be committed relationships or other outlets. Seeking out new ones is time-consuming, especially if you’re already working ridiculous hours the way Levi is. 

Still, he thinks. He’s right next door. If convenience was what Levi wanted — 

He cuts himself off before he gets ahead. Erwin doesn’t even know the guy. It would be ridiculous, not to mention a likely waste of time, to delve down the rabbit hole of what he may or may not want.

He'll indulge the curiosity, for now, cautiously. But he's determined not to set any expectations.

* * *

The rest of the summer is mostly uneventful, which isn't a bad thing, Erwin concludes.

With fall lurking around the corner, all thoughts of romance are purged once again from his mind, opting instead to focus on choosing his remaining courses, graduation looming at the end of the coming year. Armin returns once or twice to the pool, waves and smiles sweetly at Erwin as he walks past the office when he sees him. It’s friendly, nothing more, and Erwin raises his own hand in response, but the action still garters more attention than he’d care for from the one other person in the office.

“What’s that about?” Jean asks him, eyes narrowing suspiciously. He’d been bouncing something idly off the wall when it had happened, the tennis ball now clenched in his fist as he leaned back on the two back legs of one of the awkward fold-out metal chairs that they kept at the back of the office. “Something you’re not telling the class, Smith?”

Erwin chuckles, mostly to himself. “Nothing, honestly. He’s been friendly with me for a little bit now.”

It’s obvious he’s trying to hide something in his tone from the way he rolls his eyes and grins obnoxiously at Erwin. The gesture is overenthusiastic at best, far too exaggerated to be sincere. “Sure. You sure he doesn’t want something else from you?”

“I have no idea what you might be referring to,” Erwin replies, keeps his tone even enough that Jean’s eyebrow visibly twitches in annoyance. Erwin stifles a laugh. Something about watching Jean try to downplay the obvious spike of jealousy is incredibly amusing to him. “Do you think he might want something from me?”

“I mean,” Jean says, and clears his throat, “he’s a bit of a, uh, a type.” There’s a second cough, and he throws the ball against the wall again. “He likes tall muscular types. You know —” he tacks on, and flips his wrist. “ _Friendly_.”

Erwin hums in agreement, smiles quietly as though this were news to him. “Ah. He bats for that team.”

As lanky as he is, there’s a leanness to Jean. His body is just barely still in that spaghetti-stage that teenage boys tend to fall into, one that Erwin himself took quite a while to outgrow. Even though Jean isn’t particularly large, not as much as Erwin is at least, his body is still tense with muscle. If he’d had Mike forcing him to accompany him to the gym four times a week the way Mike does with Erwin, there’s no question he would become more filled-out, and quickly at that. 

But the way Armin’s eyes flit back to the desk, stare right through Erwin to watch the tennis ball’s arc against the wall — if Jean paid a little more attention to what he actually wanted over what he was competing with for it, he’d probably realize that Erwin wasn’t a threat.

All the same, Erwin probably shouldn’t play with his emotions like this.

“Well, I don’t know many people who like men and don’t feel that way,” he jokes. “But I’m not interested, if that’s what you’re asking. Besides, it’s only a wave.”

Jean shrugs. “No judgement if you do, man,” he blurts. Even from across the room, Erwin sees the hint of a blush creep into his cheeks. “I’m not one to judge your life choices.”

“I’m sure.” Another quiet laugh escapes his lips. “You two seem to know each other well.”

“Highschool,” Jean grunts. Erwin leaves the conversation there. He’s not one to pry. Jean will figure it out in time.

The last day of the season rolls around faster than he’d like, considering that it means he’ll need to go job hunting again relatively soon. He could probably convince the nursery that Mike works at to take him on; from what he knows the pay is more than decent, and the place is indoors, so it’s open year-round. But Erwin has never been a morning person, and with the hours he sees Mike pulling off, he’s not sure he would be able to take it. That and the fact his classes are starting up again makes the prospect sound even worse.

“Come work at the coffee place I’m at,” Erd offers. They’re reeling in the lane ropes, chatting idly. Jean and Petra are scrubbing the painted concrete for the last time, the water still high. Erwin is told that they’ll have to come back tomorrow to drain it out, though he’s not entirely sure why they don’t just do it now and get the process over with. “It’s minimum wage, but we get enough hours, and the manager is decent. She doesn’t just side blindly with the customer like some places will do.”

Erwin’s brow furrows. “Aren’t managers supposed to default to that to maintain customer loyalty to the company?” 

Erd practically laughs. “She owns the place. I don’t think she cares. And if I knew how to bake like her, I wouldn’t either. The place is addictive. She even lets us take home extras at the end of the day.”

Erwin hums. It doesn’t sound bad.

“I might just take you up on that,” he says.

The conversation is cut short a second later, Petra and Rico waving them over. To say the least, it’s a little surprising. Erwin’s fairly certain he hasn’t seen Rico actually smile before.

“You’re both going to be able to make it tonight, right?” Petra asks. Erwin’s not entirely sure what she’s talking about, his nose crinkling in confusion.

“Make it where?”

Erd punches him in the arm, and Erwin flinches away. 

“You forgot!” he shouts. “It’s fair game to hit someone when they forget about Blackout!”

“No, actually, it isn’t,” Rico shakes her head, and smacks Erd right back. Something quiet in Erwin actually sort of appreciates the gesture as she looks at him, as if to say _ignore him. He’s an idiot._ It’s not nearly as hard as Erd had hit him, but it’s the thought that counts, he supposes. “And he didn’t forget, you moron. No one’s told him.”

Erd squacks indignantly, grabbing at his arm where her hand had struck him, and Erwin only shakes his head. He glances at Rico as though asking her to elaborate.

“And this, “Blackout” is..?” he asks. He’s almost afraid to know the answer, based on the name.

“It’s an annual party,” Petra answers for her. “We have it here every year, at 11PM on the last night of the season”

“That sounds _highly_ illegal,” Erwin replies evenly. He folds his arms over his chest. “And potentially dangerous, considering what you call it.”

“Much to your surprise, and my utmost displeasure,“ Rico cuts in, “it’s actually fine. Petra files a formal request, and Dot approves it every year. He says it’s good for us to get a chance to relax at the end of the season.” She’s feigning annoyance, but even Erwin can tell that she’s got a quiet sort of excitement about her. “It’s a good way to end off, gives everyone a chance to bond and have fun together one last time, as long as no one decides to get sick everywhere.” Her eyes dart conspicuously to Erd. “Though, last year —”

“— is _off book_ , like we all agreed. I cleaned up my own mess, thank you,” he snaps.

Petra almost snorts, she laughs so hard at that. “You spent an hour scrubbing concrete the next day, I remember.” She turns back to face Erwin, and says “You might be a bit older than the rest of us, but I’m sure if you decide to come, you’d have a good time anyways. Maybe bring that roommate of yours for company, if you want.”

“I’ll ask him,” Erwin says, smiling. He looks back to Rico, and this time the annoyance isn’t feigned at all. “But I’ll try and make it there myself either way. We should finish with the official shut-down of the facilities first, though.”

“Thanks, Erwin,” Petra smiles, gives his shoulder a quick squeeze as she and Rico turn away.

* * *

He does bring Mike in the end, promising him that he doesn’t need to stay the whole night.

Initially, Mike says he can’t make it, that he’s busy and he doesn’t have time to spend at a party where he doesn’t know anyone. 

“Rico will be there,” Erwin says.

Suddenly, Mike is sitting bolt upright on the couch.

“I’ll probably walk home around one at the latest,” Mike tells him as they walk there. “I have an early shift tomorrow, and I want to get enough sleep. Can’t be hungover either.”

“I’m glad you made time for this, then,” Erwin chuckles. ”I’m sure you’ve got no ulterior motives influencing your behavior at all.”

They get there half an hour late, because Mike insists that that’s the fashionable thing to do. Rico is first to greet him at the door, her face already flushed and groggy.

“Smith, you _bitch,”_ she grins. Petra and someone else pull her aside as quickly as she’d popped up.

“Sorry,” the other person says, Petra leading her away, much to Mike’s visible disappointment. “She’s drunk as fuck right now.” Erwin hasn’t seen them here before; in fact, a solid half of the people there are folks he’s never seen before.

He wonders briefly if this is a more public event than what Petra had advertised to him, but no, there were still a few people he knew. There were just… a lot of unfamiliar faces mixed in with them, so many that he’s completely certain he’s not the only person to have brought a roommate or two. Some guys are playing beer pong at the side of the pool, some others have already jumped in. In the corner of the pool, a couple is making out.

 _That_ can’t _be sanctioned by the board of health,_ Erwin thinks, an eyebrow quirked upwards. 

Mike nudges him and gestures in the direction of the table, drawing his attention away from them though.

“I’m going over there,” he says, a swell of confidence in his voice. Erwin doesn’t care much for the game, but Mike is notorious for his trick shots at any and all parties he attends. Erwin himself has seen him occasionally practicing them in the kitchen, when he gets bored or is procrastinating on an assignment, which is far more devotion than anyone should ever have for a drinking game. Nevertheless, they’re nothing shy of impressive.

But for all that Mike seems able to blend in with the crowd, Erwin himself doesn’t really know who to talk to though, so he just kind of stands there, leans back on the chain-link fence and nurses the drink that he’s been handed by Nanaba. He finishes it faster than he should, meanders his way over to the fold-out plastic tables in the corner that are laid out with alcohol. He downs the second drink just as quick, refills again.

Subconsciously, he supposes, this had been what he’d been wishing for. A way to get to meet new people, and get to better know those he already did. It still feels odd to actually be at a party though — he hasn’t gone to a proper one since first year, and it seems like he’s the oldest one here by a relatively long shot. There’s little groups of conversation, a few people scattered here and there looking just as lost as he is, but none of them really grab his attention. He’d usually seek out someone else who looked like they were an upper year student like him, but the second oldest person to his knowledge is currently slumped over, half-unconscious in a chair. She seems fine, seems like she’s having a great time once you put aside the fact that she can’t actually stand up properly right now, but Erwin somehow doubts she’d be up for any kind of actual conversation at the moment.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come, he thinks quietly. Or, numbly, he wonders if he should have walked down the hall and invited Levi. He dismisses the idea just as quickly with a vigorous shake of his head. Levi wouldn't have wanted to come in the first place, and even if he did, it would have upset Rico.

This is just a reflection of the particular life stage he finds himself in. Too young to be too old, and yet too old to feel young anymore. Sure, he understands the want to party and go wild, _everyone_ does in their first year — the couple still making out in the pool is testimony to that — but personally, he’s sort of past it now. At least the music here isn’t distastefully loud, he thinks to himself.

That might also just be his ego talking, he realizes. Down goes the last of the drink again.

Jean is standing on the diving board, shouting something to get people’s attention when Erwin finally looks up from his drink. He’s making an announcement about how in just a few minutes, there’s going to be a diving competition in the deep end. A last celebration to the season, he proclaims, and the crowd shouts back eagerly. The way he says it is what makes Erwin certain that diving isn’t going to actually be much of the focus. 

Petra’s abandoned her post by Rico’s side, coming back over to Erwin. She’d left her with the other guy, for now, it seemed.

“You feeling alright there?” she asks quietly. She seems to be the only person who’s sober at this whole event.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he smiles back. “You’re not drinking?”

“I don’t generally, no,” she replies. “Alcohol problems run in the family, so I decided a while back that even after hitting legal age, I’d generally be better off staying sober. And besides,” she adds, risking a glance back at Rico, “I don’t think anyone else I came with is up to the task of being designated driver.” She doesn’t seem resentful of it, actually smiles a bit. 

Erwin tilts his head to the side. “I take it Erd is just as plastered as last year as well?”

“He’s in the bathroom, making sure he gets it in the toilet. Gunter was with him, last time I checked.” She giggles, pops her fingers in front of her mouth as though she should be stopping herself, but the laughter squeaks out of her all the same. “I think he learned his lesson from last year.”

“You don’t ever get tired of playing the mothering type to your roommate, do you?” he asks. It’s only half a joke.

“He and Rico look out for me most of the time, so I’m just glad to return the favor when they can’t. If that just means tucking him into bed sometimes, so be it.” She swings her head in a wide shake, as though dislodging the thought, and changes the subject. “Are you planning on partaking in the competition? There’s a prize for whoever wins, usually, and I’ve seen you dive before. You’re good at it.”

Erwin shrugs. He wouldn’t claim to be great, himself — he can do a flip, two if he’s lucky, but that’s about it usually. And the alcohol is already making his head spin.

“I don’t know if that would be wisest,” he says, feels the words catch on his teeth in a slur, and that’s all the proof he needs to convince himself that no, it really wouldn’t be. 

But Petra is insistent for some reason. “Come on, there’s plenty of cute girls here too. I’m sure some of them would pay to see those abs up close,” she grins, pokes his stomach playfully, and Erwin groans, as he realizes why.

“Mike put you up to this, didn’t he?”

“He might’ve,” she says, pokes him again. “Just, relax a little, alright? You’re not constantly on watch. Even I know how to put my guard down, sometimes, and I can tell that you’d feel better if you just let yourself have some fun, and stopped thinking of yourself like some stuffy old man.”

She’s right — probably. Erwin shrugs. He reaches for another drink, his third or fourth since they got there less than forty-five minutes ago. Petra notices, raises an eyebrow.

“You, on the other hand, are clearly _not_ planning on staying sober,” she comments deftly, and Erwin grunts. “Making sure Blackout lives up to its name?”

“I’ll survive it,” he says around a burp, the fizziness of the mixer catching up to him. “It takes a lot of this stuff to get to me.”

“Not when you’re downing them like they’re nothing. Drink some water,” she says, pats him on the shoulder and furrows her brow in concern. “I don’t want to find out you fell asleep in the street on your way home.”

He staggers, leans back against the table and nearly falls as it shifts under his weight — alright, so maybe she was right. So what? Erwin can hold his liquor. At least, he could, last time he was drinking, which… that was a while ago now, come to think of it.

Damn. When _did_ he get old? He pours a shot into the cup, not bothering to add a mixer, and downs it immediately.

“Smith, what the fuck,” she says. Now she’s genuinely ticked off. 

Good, he thinks to himself. Let her be. He’s not entirely certain what’s gotten into him, to be honest. 

“Give me that,” she orders him, snatches the cup out of his hand and puts it down on the table, well out of his grasp. Jean’s calling out for the competition, says it’s the last call for anyone who wants to do it, and Erwin sighs. He refuses to be the washed up old man who doesn’t participate in anything fun, or worse, the old man who gets mothered by his coworkers.

“Fine,” he groans, pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it at Petra. “Fine. I’ll do your stupid competition, if you let me drink what I want when it’s done.” 

She manages to catch it before it lands on her face, startled by the abrupt change of pace, her eyes wide. The expression only lasts a moment in which she’s processing exactly what he’s said, but the ire from moments before dissolves neatly into a laugh again by time she does. 

“I’m glad the reasons that made you change your mind are so honorable.” she jokes.

“Don’t you start,” he says, raising a finger dangerously at her, as though he’s about to lecture her. He fiddles with the fly on his pants and kicks them off along with his shoes, leaves himself shivering in his thin, plain grey boxers in the early September air.

She opens her mouth to comment, and Erwin feels her eyes linger just a second too long, bites her lip worriedly. "I won’t say anything else, but — are you sure you should be in so… little clothing?” she says, voice hushed. He waves her off again, plops the pants down on one of the benches in the rest area.

“I told you, don’t.” he orders swiftly.

“But —”

“Not a word.”

He makes his way to the boards, elbows past a couple of guys by the edge of the pool so he can squeeze past. Mike looks at him in utter bewilderment as he glides by. The alcohol is definitely taking an effect, he realizes, when he reaches the diving area without so much as a whisper of shame in him. Even Jean seems to stare as he steps towards him, can feel practically every set of eyes at the party trained on him, hears some girl off to the side giggle and whispers something to her friend as he passes. He feels like hot shit. He _is_ hot shit, as far as he’s concerned.

But when he glances back, something else entirely catches his eye, which is the empty chair where Rico had been just a few moments before. Petra stands next to it, confused, still holding Erwin’s shirt in her hand, and he can see her lips moving as though she’s calling out, eyes moving to and fro frantically.

He’s still processing the empty chair when he sees what looks like the guy who’d been with Rico earlier, quietly carrying what looks like a body in his arms, almost all the way back at the entrance. He’s too far away, and Erwin is far too drunk to make out the details well enough to see the guy’s face, but it looks almost as though he’d just glanced over his shoulder, like he wants to be sure that he’s not being followed.

Jean is in the process of announcing something stupid and redundant that Erwin isn’t listening to when Erwin starts to walk away, pauses his speech only when he notices Erwin stalking off, fists clenched at his sides. 

“Hey —” Jean shouts “— the fuck are you going?”

His bare feet smack against the concrete as he picks up the pace. The guy carrying Rico finally seems to pick up on the fact that Erwin is chasing after him, tries to run himself when he realizes, but there’s only so far that someone can get while carrying an unconscious body. He drops her on the ground as he goes, body thumping into the cement with a solid thwack noise.

Erwin thinks about stopping there, about the fact that she’s safe and that’s all that matters, but something violent in his guts spurs him forwards, makes him tackle the guy to the ground and lock his knees over his chest. The guy screams something that Erwin hardly hears over the pounding of his own heart in his ears, blood boiling. He manages to land one solid hit with his elbow into Erwin’s gut, forces all the air out of him in a little _oomph_ sound. 

That’s really the thing that he thinks made him lose his shit, in hindsight. Erwin is not entirely sure when he lands the first punch, just knows that he isn’t planning on stopping, not even when his wrist gives out from the force with a painful little _pop!_

“Hey, hey!” someone shouts. Two guys drag him off the body, arms locked around his shoulders, while a third picks up the other guy. They’re the same group that Mike had been playing beer pong with, a fourth one running after them.

Mike is back where Rico is lying on the ground, shouting something incomprehensible and pinching her, trying to get her to come to. She’s groaning and shaking her head in response, mumbles something about wanting a nap, and that’s all the reassurance that she’s alright that Erwin needs to turn his attention back to the men in front of him.

“Calm down, big guy,” one of the guys says to him, pats him on the back. The guy who’d been carrying Rico is standing up slowly, helped by his friend. There’s blood coming down from one of his nostrils, another cut under his eye where one of Erwin’s knuckles had probably caught him. His face is thin and pinched, like a rat’s, Erwin thinks, cropped black hair buzzed down just a few millimeters from his scalp. Another pat lands on his shoulder, and Erwin snaps.

 _“Fuck_ you,” Erwin spits, rips his arm loose from the guy’s grip. The second guy lets go of his own accord, his hands raised in a gesture that clearly said _hey man, I don’t want a part in this._

He can hear Petra shouting something behind him, hears her feet getting closer, and ignores it completely, lunges forwards and throws another punch that catches the rat-guy in the nose and breaks it with a clean _crack._

Erwin’s wrist goes from sore to excruciating in less than a moment, pain throbbing up his arm. He shouts something, grabs the hand and makes as though he’s going to throw another punch before Petra grabs his arm and screams something awful, straight into his ear.

“Smith, stand the _hell_ down. Now. ” The words are not a question. She steps in front of him, the brightly coloured tank top she’d chosen that night feeling completely inappropriate to the long string of names that comes tumbling out of her mouth a moment later.

“Get out, get the _fuck_ out of here.” She says it loud enough that some of the neighboring buildings seem to have picked up on the scuffle, a few anxious faces peering out of the windows. “Take your stupid buddy and if any of you so much as show your goddamn face here again, I’ll give you something worse than _him_ to be afraid of.” She points a finger back at Erwin, steps forwards until she’s nose-to-nose with one of the guys. It might well be the alcohol, but all he can think of is how similar the sight feels to a feral animal fight, with the way her body is poised, ready to strike the second one of them dares to answer her.

“Relax —” one of the guys tries, reaches a hand out to placate her, and she kicks him in the shin. He goes down with a painful yelp, the blow apparently catching him off-guard.

“Don't fucking tell me to relax,” she spits. “Party's over. _Leave._ ” She spins on her heel, addresses the whole crowd now. “All of you, if you’re not needed here, get the fuck out.” 

For a moment, he remembers that it is, in fact, her party. She certainly knows how to control a crowd, no one so much as questioning the decision as they filter out of the gate slowly. If anything, more than a few people seem to be eager to put as much distance as they can between themselves and the scene.

Mike is still sitting with Rico when Erwin and Petra get back, his knee propped up behind her to provide some kind of support. She leans back on him, a thin trail of blood leaking from her head. Erwin is still in his boxers.

“You wanna maybe like, get dressed there, buddy?” Mike asks. His eyes dart to the shirt, still clutched in Petra’s fingers, and Erwin snatches it back, pulls it awkwardly over his head with his one functional hand.

“My pants are still on the deck somewhere,” he deadpans back. “And I think I broke my wrist.”

And, completely unceremoniously, as though the blow to his stomach is just hitting him, Erwin leans to the side and pukes all over the pavement.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look it's the fic that i havent updated in six months getting an update no one asked for!  
> i imagine canon petra is reminiscent of [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzCD4ik6JAA&feature=emb_title)


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

They end up calling an ambulance for Rico, the seven of them waiting it out in the office. It’s cramped, but it’s warmer than outside, the taste of bile still sour in the back of Erwin’s mouth. His wrist throbs painfully, hurts if he so much as twitches the fingers on his hand.

“That was dumb, Smith” Rico chastises him. She had gotten sick when she’d come to from the hit, had seemingly sobered up since evacuating most of the alcohol from her system. Erwin’s own mind is still in the progress of coming out of its haze. "You shouldn't have gone and hurt yourself like that."

He opens his mouth to say something about the fact that he’d done it only to protect her, before he notices the tears at the corners of her eyes. She’s not crying — she’s far too proud to break into tears in front of anyone, even now. But they’re there, and dangerously close to falling, so he closes his mouth and pretends he hasn’t noticed.

“Yeah, it was.”

Erd and Gunter have also stuck around, Erd considerably less sick than before, but on the brink of passing out at any moment. Petra and Jean sit across the room, hushed whispers of concern about when the paramedics will arrive. Rico hasn’t thrown up since before they called, but she’d hit her head pretty hard upon being dropped. They’re all a little on edge about it.

Mike is still sitting dutifully by her side as well, much to Erwin’s surprise. He’d been fairly certain that Mike would leave with the others earlier, more from convenience and trying to stay out of the way than from any kind of ill will. It’s well past the one AM curfew that he’d set for himself. 

Erwin had actually told him he could go home at any point, once it got to around two, but he’d just shook his head and said, “I’m used to you being more level-headed than me.” He’s not entirely sure if that had been a compliment or an insult.

The ambulance pulls up, puts Rico on a stretcher even though she insists that she can walk. Erwin climbs in the back with her and barres Mike and Petra from clambouring in after him.

“You’ve both already had an eventful night,” he says. “Go home. Get some sleep.”

Petra tries to shove him out of the way, but he only stares down at her with firmer resolve in his voice.

“Especially you, Ral. You have a second roommate that you promised to take care of. Let me handle this, please”

Her cheeks puff out at that disdainfully, clearly put-off. “Erd’s a grown man, he can get home in one piece. I want to make sure —”

“I’ll take care of her,” he cuts her off, his voice quiet and reassuring. It’s not that he doesn’t think Petra is capable of it, but rather more because she’s already pretty freaked out. She doesn’t need to be sitting in the hospital for the next eight hours on top of that. 

“Besides,” he tacks on, forcing a pained smile and raising his arm, his hand clearly misaligned. Even that simple motion makes him wince. “I’m pretty sure I need to go where she’s going anyways.”

She crinkles her nose. “You’ll text me if anything happens?”

“Of course.”

His head is still a little spinney from the alcohol, still a little dazed and nauseous from the fight, but he knows he can promise her that much. Mike stares him down, a deep line of concern wrinkled into his forehead, as though he doesn’t quite believe him.

“I’ll be fine,” Erwin repeats, and Mike breaks the contact, looks away slowly.

“Call me if you want a ride home in the morning, alright?”

The door closes and the ambulance starts rolling, slowly, the five others still standing on the pavement. Erwin’s still in his loose boxers and crumpled t-shirt, barefoot. He looks like he’d rolled out of bed and directly into the back of the truck. One of the paramedics looks him up and down, fixes him with such a curious expression that Erwin actually laughs a little under his breath.

“Long night?” they ask. The strobe lights that are still on by the pool light up their face through the window, flashing different colors.

Erwin sighs, drops his head into his hands and feels a goofy, stupid little smirk creep across his face. He’s pretty sure he’s only smiling because he has no idea how else he’s supposed to feel.

“You have _no_ idea.”

* * *

They give him a set of white socks with little rubber grips on the bottom along the way, something Erwin figures will come in handy when they actually get to the hospital. He doesn’t like the idea of wandering around barefoot. Rico gets wheeled off pretty much the minute they get in, and Erwin makes as though to follow her into the observation room when a nurse cuts him off.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to ask that you wait outside the room while she’s being seen,” she says. She seems sympathetic enough, glances over her shoulder at Rico and tuts her tongue softly as if to say _poor girl._ “It’s legally required protocol, unfortunately.”

“Sure,” he says, nods understandingly. He’s still clutching his arm close to his chest, the pain dulled down so long as he doesn’t try to move it. “Could I possibly go in and stay there with her when the doctor is done, though? I promised that I would keep an eye on her.”

“Unfortunately, you’ll still have to wait in the hallway once she’s asleep. We have a strict family-only policy when it comes to patients who are unconscious, and even then she’d need to formally sign you in with her.”

“I understand,” he says, nods again and winces in pain. 

The nurse seems to notice, and her eyes dart to his arm, lock onto it a bit uneasily. He follows her gaze and only then realizes that not only is it cocked at an awkward angle at the wrist, but it’s also swollen up and turned a brilliant shade of red.

“...Did you hurt yourself too?” she asks suspiciously, and Erwin shakes his head.

“It’ll be fine,” he insists. “I’d just like to know she’s not hurt first.”

The nurse shakes her head, and says, “I can’t make you go to the emergency room, but I _strongly_ advise that you do _not_ wait the whole night to do that. She may be in there for a while, considering that she has a pretty big gash up there, from what I saw. And, —” the nurse glances around, lowers her voice slightly as though she’s giving him top secret information, “— there’s typically fewer people around at this hour of the day. If you wait until the morning, you may end up waiting much, much longer to be seen.”

Erwin sighs, looks down at his disheveled clothes, his sock-feet on the bare linoleum floor and puffed-up wrist. He mulls it over.

“That’s a good point,” he says finally, and the nurse nods. “I think I may take your advice.”

She places a firm, reassuring hand on his good shoulder. “Don’t worry about her, hun. I’ll come and try to find you in the ER if anything changes, alright?” she offers sympathetically, and Erwin smiles back. The gesture in and of itself means a lot.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He ponders his way back to the waiting room, takes a number from the ticketed machine and sits down in a chair, well aware of exactly how unhinged he must look. The clock on the wall moves at what feels like a snail’s pace, the room practically unaltered save the odd person walking in or leaving every half hour or so. Erwin sits, plays some old puzzle game he’d downloaded on his phone and hasn’t touched in years while he waits, until eventually the battery drops far enough that he decides he’s better off saving the rest to be able to text Petra like he’d promised. If he’s lucky, he’ll have enough left to ask Mike to pick him up as well. He shoves the phone deep in his pockets, glances up and realizes that two full hours have passed.

Something deep in his gut breaks just a little, still four or five numbers away from being called, his head drooping against the side of the chair. Every fiber of his body is screaming for him to fall asleep right there, eyes drooping.

“Thought you said you weren’t following me,” a voice grunts. Erwin jumps at the noise, looks up and groans almost immediately.

Levi’s standing in front of him, in a lab coat and a pair of blue, latex disposable gloves. His arms are folded tight over his chest, and there’s a set of thin glasses perched on the end of his nose. Erwin can make out deep bags hanging under his eyes, and he looks like he’s probably just as tired if not more than Erwin is himself.

“You look like hell, by the way. Smell like it, too.”

A small, humorless chuckle escapes Erwin’s lips, breaking contact with Levi’s gaze. “I probably do.” He clenches his arm tighter, the pain flaring up again at the tiny shift in his weight. It’s enough to catch Levi’s attention.

“You broke your wrist or something?” he asks, his eyes narrowing on Erwin’s right hand. 

Erwin grinds his teeth in pain. “Something like that,” he replies. He doesn’t really want to get into it.

Levi crouches, just enough to level his eyes with Erwin’s as he sits in his chair and reaches out a hand gently. His whole attitude seems to shift just a little.

“May I?”

The tone is different from the callous, vaguely mocking sneer that Erwin has come to anticipate from him, careful enough that Erwin, much to his own surprise, actually holds out his injured wrist. Levi accepts it gingerly, turns it over softly enough that it shouldn’t hurt, but Erwin winces anyways. He forces his mouth back into a flat line, tries to cover up the flinch and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does, but Levi’s already noticed it, eyes sharp.

“You really fucked this up,” Levi huffs, stands up straight again and looks away. It’s slightly more in his regular character, enough that Erwin doesn’t feel bad when he pulls back his arm. “How’d you manage that?”

“I got in a fight,” Erwin says dully. 

The way Levi’s eyes widen in response gives him a weird chill of satisfaction, makes him have to suffocate the urge to grin at the stunned look on Levi’s face. 

“... _You?_ You’re joking.”

“I wish.”

Levi glances at the floor, opens his mouth and then closes it as though he’s considering something. Erwin watches him as his lips part again, finally seeming to settle on a choice of words, and asks, “How many more people have to go through before your number is up?”

Erwin blinks, confused, and glances down at the tiny slip of paper in his hand. He stares back at the digital display hanging over the check-in desk, and says, “Five, I guess?”

There’s a whoosh of air as Levi exhales, and then offers, quietly, “I’ve got a friend on call in radiology tonight. I think he’s seeing a patient right now, but he should be done faster than however long you’d have to wait here for. I can ask him to stay a little longer to see you before he goes home.”

Erwin shrugs, sighs lamentably. “I don’t really know if I feel comfortable taking advantage of the system like that.”

“You’ll be here till like, probably eight AM if you wait,” Levi points out, and he shrugs. “It wouldn’t be any trouble for me, either, I’m off at five.” 

Erwin checks the clock again; it’s currently quarter to. Levi could have him seen in fifteen minutes. He’d be out of here by six, easily.

“Just — consider it a favor, alright?”

A beat passes where Erwin doesn’t know how to react. He wets his lips, looks down at the blotchy bruising that’s formed over his skin, and sighs. If he leaves the waiting room, the nurse from before won’t be able to find him.

On the other hand, he’d be free to go check on Rico himself sooner.

“Alright,” he says finally, heaves himself up out of the chair. Levi’s gaze trails down his body lingers for a second on Erwin’s bottom half. He doesn’t even bother to hide the fact he’s staring, Erwin notices, watches as Levi’s expression crinkles up again.

“Are you... in your underwear?” Levi’s eyebrow hikes straight up his forehead, silvery eyes flitting up to meet Erwin’s blue.

“It’s related to the wrist, technically,” Erwin responds, and doesn’t explain further.

* * *

An hour later, Erwin is on his way home, resting comfortably in the passenger seat of Levi’s car. Off in the distance, the first slivers of the sun dip over the horizon, the sky off-grey. Some wretched little thing in his chest is actually a little jealous that the car even has heated seats.

Levi had indeed taken him to a radiologist, and it had taken about ten minutes from there for the guy to take enough shots of his wrist that he could confidently say it wasn’t fractured. He’d rolled it one way and then the other while examining him, and Erwin had almost howled in pain, teeth grit together. The guy had looked back up and explained that it was probably badly sprained instead, had said that it would heal up by itself in a few days, that Erwin might have some persisting pain, but overall the damage wasn’t too severe. He’d sent him off with a brace and a prescription for some medium-level painkillers in the end. 

Levi had been waiting for him outside the door, eyes fixed on his phone screen, had looked up when Erwin had walked out.

“You want a lift, Captain America?”

Erwin had considered turning him down for a second or two. Briefly, he’d wondered what it would be like to have to take the bus in boxers and socks, and that’s all it had taken for him to swallow his pride and say, “Yes.”

They’d gone to check in on Rico first of course, Erwin had insisted on that much. But, much like the nurse earlier that night had predicted, she was out cold when he got there.

“I should stay,” he’d said, peering through the window. He can see that the lights were off, can make out the outline of her body under the sheets, facing away from them, but Levi had just shaken his head.

“She’s fine. They probably wouldn’t let her sleep right away if she had a severe head injury.”

“I know,” Erwin had nodded. “But I don’t want her to be alone when she wakes up.”

Levi had actually rolled his eyes at that, had gestured to Erwin’s own arm. “You’re injured too. Get someone else to come and take care of your girlfriend. You can see her when you’re both doing better.”

The second sentence had made Erwin flinch a bit, but this time Levi seems like he doesn’t notice, or at least has the common decency to pretend he doesn’t.

Erwin had texted Petra the room number, had tacked on that Rico was fine and that he was headed home for now. Petra replied almost immediately and thanked him, told him that she’d drive there and wait outside the room until Rico woke up again. It occurs briefly to him that she’d probably been awake the whole night waiting for news, and he shakes his head.

 _How’s Erd doing?_ he shoots back, and the three little dots pop up again.

_He’ll live. He’ll probably wish he hadn’t though, when he wakes up._

Erwin had smirked at that, had put down his phone and watched the streetlamps go racing by the car window.

“So why did you get into a fight anyways?” Levi asks finally, and Erwin shrugs.

“A dude tried to carry off my friend.” He almost elaborates further, but then catches himself, hesitates. The realization comes a bit belatedly, considering that Levi knew exactly who that friend had been. He’d seen her lying in the hospital bed from through the window, after all.

“Someone tried to _carry_ Rico off?” he asks. He sounds… a bit bewildered with that information, as though he doesn’t quite know what to think of it. Erwin wonders what’s going through his mind as he does. He can practically hear the gears turning in Levi’s head next to him. They both stare straight ahead at the road.

“That’s fucked,” Levi exhales. “That’s _really_ fucked.” 

Erwin lets out his own breath in response. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. He’s pretty sure if he’d said something less sympathetic, he would have punched him as well.

“Yeah,” Erwin agrees. His voice is quiet. “We were all pretty wasted, to be —”

“I hope you kicked the shit out of him,” Levi spits abruptly, interrupting.

The words catch Erwin by surprise, and he feels his whole body turn to stare at Levi. He looks absolutely livid, hands white-knuckling the wheel, eyes narrowed into a glare. Erwin doesn’t think he’d been expecting that kind of emotion, to say the least.

“...I did,” he says, finally. “I’m pretty sure I broke his nose.”

“Good.”

Neither he nor Levi speak the whole way home after that, the Subaru finally falling quiet when they reached their building. The keys flip and kill the engine, and the two of them just sit there for a moment, Levi collecting his things. Erwin is staring straight ahead at the grey concrete wall of the underground parking lot.

It’s almost six thirty in the morning now, Erwin registers numbly as Levi pulls the key out of the ignition. Mike has probably already gone to work. The clock on the dashboard goes dark as the battery switches off completely, and Levi grabs something out of the backseat. It’s the same gym bag that Erwin has seen him with before. 

“You coming, or are you gonna sleep in my car?” he asks. 

Erwin just tilts his head in acknowledgement, pops the lock on his seatbelt and exits the car himself. He follows Levi wordlessly towards the stairs.

“What floor are you on again?” Levi asks.

“Third. We’re in 314.” Erwin’s wrist hurts a lot less than it had a few hours before, likely because it’s been almost completely immobile since then, but there’s still a throbbing pain when he instinctively raises his right hand to open the door. Yet again, Levi notices exactly where Erwin’s movements falter. 

“Don’t fuck yourself up more,” he says. “Here.” 

Erwin nods, steps back and lets Levi get the knob instead. There’s something almost humiliating about it, he thinks, as Levi holds it open and gestures him through.

They walk up the stairs, Erwin a few paces in front. He’s not entirely sure why Levi has decided to be so nice — or, perhaps, he considers, nice isn’t really the right word. He’s still just as rough around the edges as he’s ever been, for the most part, but he’s also been surprisingly — considerate. He settles on the word after a brief moment, figures it’s the best one he can come up with to describe the behavior. 

He’s a little confused when Levi follows him out onto the third floor though. If memory served him correctly, Levi’s apartment is above his and Mike’s. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Levi doesn’t give him a proper answer at first, just snorts and elbows his way past. When Erwin doesn’t follow, he turns around to look at Erwin impatiently, more than a bit annoyed. 

“You think you’ll be able to use your keys like that?” Levi asks right back. “Come on. I don’t have all night.”

Erwin doesn’t really have anything to say to that; he’s probably right. He shuffles after him, hands Levi the keys from his pocket and watches as the smaller man fiddles with the lock, jiggles the metal teeth in place and huffs irritably.

“It’s a little sticky,” Erwin says lamely. He’s met with another grunt. 

“No shit.”

Finally, the lock slides out of place and the door swings open. Erwin is still in socks and his boxers. It occurs to him that he’s going to need to go back to work sometime later in the day, to pick up his shoes and pants, and probably clean up where he’d puked on the ground.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he says quietly, trying not to make too much noise in the empty hallway. Levi shrugs, eyes glancing away.

“Consider it a favor,” he repeats himself, refusing to make eye contact with Erwin as he does. Instead, he locks on to the lanyard on Erwin’s keychain.

Erwin follows the movement aptly, notices how he lingers on the logo that patterns it. “It’s from my university. They gave them out during orientation, a few years back.”

“You’re a King’s kid, then,” Levi says. He seems to find it amusing for some reason, almost sounds a little _smug_ , Erwin thinks, and the good will that Levi’s built up with him throughout the night all but dissipates on the spot. Erwin’s well aware that it’s not as fancy or high ranked as Sina, but it had been what he could afford, and he’s in the top percentile of his year, has managed to slog his way through with a steady 4.0 GPA.

He knows he probably shouldn't bring up the fact that Levi’s gone to Sina in the first place though, so he just bites his lip and asks, his tone dropping defensively, “Is that a bad thing?”

Levi seems to sense that he’s said something he shouldn’t, his eyes widening just a little bit. His mouth stumbles for a moment, and a flash of panic crosses his face. That alone is enough to fascinate Erwin. He didn’t think Levi was the type to get flustered easily. 

“— Don’t get me wrong. One of my friends goes there, though I doubt you’d know her.” He crosses his arms, squeezes his chest a little awkwardly and looks away. “That wasn’t meant to seem condescending, I just thought it was a funny coincidence. You’re alike, in some ways.”

“Oh,” Erwin breathes. “Ok.”

“Yeah. She’s in their teacher education stream. She’d be like, two years younger than you I think?”

“I’m in literature,” he replies, “so I doubt I’d have met her anyways.” Levi shrugs again.

“I hear King’s is pretty good for that.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them seems to know what to say next, but Levi is still standing there, and Erwin doesn’t know whether to invite him inside to eat something or if he should tell him goodnight and gently close the door. There’s just enough residual alcohol in his system that he manages to open his mouth and say something impulsive anyways.

“You were right, by the way,” he blurts. He’s already kicking himself when Levi fixes him with a confused stare, peers up from the floor and narrows his eyes into an uncertain look. 

“About…?”

“I do like men,” he says, and backpedals when Levi seems even more taken aback by the statement. “I mean — not exclusively. But — yeah. And I’m only mentioning it because I wanted to clarify that I’m truly not dating Armin.” He goes quiet, snaps his jaw shut and redirects his gaze at the tiled floor of the entrance to his apartment. “Or — anyone, actually, right now.”

There’s a beat where Levi just stares at him quizzically and Erwin can feel the heat rising to his face as his expression goes from confusion to outright baffled by the odd timing of Erwin’s confession. A nervous sheen of sweat pricks at Erwin’s forehead. Levi says absolutely nothing for an agonizing cluster of seconds. 

“... _Mazel tov,_ I guess?” The words feel more like a question than anything else as they fall from Levi’s mouth. 

Erwin reaches a hand behind his neck and idly scratches the short hairs that grow there, unsure what to say next. A nervous chuckle slips through his teeth, and he adds, “I don’t actually know where that came from. I’d just appreciate it if you were to stop speculating so much about my uh — more personal life.” The statement doesn’t so much end as it does trail off a bit lamely.

Levi’s eyes dart away again. He shifts in place, and Erwin finds himself worrying for a second that he’s the one who’s overstepped now, finds himself wondering if for just a moment, _he’s_ the one who’s made Levi uncomfortable. But the tension dissipates as quickly as it had formed, Levi’s mouth twitching upwards in what was unmistakably some kind of a quiet little smile.

“You sure weren’t kidding when you said you were pretty wasted, huh?” he jokes, and Erwin laughs along with him. “I guess I can leave you alone, if that kind of thing bothers you.” 

“Thanks,” Erwin replies, a shy little curve on the edge of his lips. 

He can hear the steady ticking of the second hand on the analog clock that’s hung on the wall from where they stand in the entrance, the door propped open by Erwin’s foot. It’s the only sound in the hallway, the early morning light creeping in from a lone window at the end of the hall. Outside, the sky shifts to pink, light trickling its way across the off-color carpeting as the two of them are left standing there.

Eventually, Erwin breaks the quiet, taps against the ground with the toe of his foot, his voice only betraying a small amount of his disappointment. “I need to go back to work in the afternoon, so I should probably get some sleep. We have to drain the pool — and there’s some other stuff I’ll need to clean up.” The negligence to mention exactly what he’s cleaning is completely intentional.

“Yeah,” Levi agrees. He stares at Erwin curiously for a moment, cocks his head to the side before he seems to make a decision and fumbles in his pocket for a second. He pulls out a pen and a slip of paper, scribbles something down on it that he hands to Erwin.

“What’s this?” Erwin asks.

“My phone,” Levi answers simply. “You can text me when your wrist feels better, and I’ll take the brace back for you. It’ll save you a trip.”

Erwin holds the paper in his hand, looks up at Levi and smiles. If this wasn’t a signal, if Levi deciding to drop his phone number right after Erwin explicitly informs him that he likes men isn’t some kind of sign, then Erwin didn’t know _what_ was. Something in his gut twists earnestly.

“Thank you,” he says.

Levi only grunts, looks away a little begrudgingly and walks back to the stairs. 

“Don’t get too flattered,” he grunts over his shoulder. He sniffs quickly, and turns back to face Erwin, eyes stalling on him for just a second too long. “I’m not the type of person who doesn’t collect on an owed favor.”

And with that, the quiet _thud_ of the stairwell door falling closed behind him leaves Erwin standing in the hallway alone.

“I’m sure you’re not,” Erwin murmurs, a little too pleased with himself, back to the empty hall.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a shorter chapter again! but here ya go


End file.
